Fall Away
by LadyWhiteKoiFish
Summary: The Basterds didn't die and are now trying to escape France. And along the way, the boys write down what happened to all of them in their own personal diaries. These are their dairy entries. SLASH! Complete list of slash pairings inside!
1. Chapter 1

**Fandom: Inglourious Basterds**

**Pairings: Aldo/Landa, Stiglitz/Hicox, Donny/Utivich, Wicki/Ulmer**

**Summary: The Basterds didn't die and are now trying to escape France. And along the way, the boys write down what happened to all of them in their own personal diaries. These are their dairy entries. SLASH!**

**Rated: M**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the brilliant Q. Tarantino and anyone else who made money off the movie, unlike myself. I only own the plot, Mr. and Mrs. Grégoire, and Johnson.**

**Warnings: More slash than you could possibly handle.**

**A/N: This started out as a bit of a comedic story, which I didn't plan on posting, but soon I fell in love with it and started to realize that it wasn't a half bad story, if you didn't mind the pairing up of almost every guy in the movie. And there's one pairing I bet you never thought of Wicki/Ulmer. I don't know what to say. I saw them and fell in love, and I hope you do too after reading them in my story. Sorry if the characters are a little OOC, but it's kind of hard to write them in character when some of them only have one or two line in the WHOLE movie. Also I had no idea what their original plan was if Hicox and Stiglitz hadn't of died in the basement, so I made up stuff as I went along. So, if it's terribly awful I'm sorry. The beginning is a bit chopping, but it gets better when you get into the Basterds' notes.**

Fall Away

It was almost too good to be true, considering all the close calls they had had. Like when that major in that, dreaded, basement bar almost found them out, but thanks to some quick thinking on Miss von Hammersmark's part, they were able to quickly and silently neutralize that problem.

Their next close call was at that stupid, movie theater, when Miss von Hammersmark had vanished, and only later did they learn that she was strangled to death in a back room by Col. Hans Landa. The plan had been simple blow up the whole theater with everyone in it, but nothing ever goes quite as planned.

Wicki, Hicox, and Stiglitz had set up their bombs under their seats. Utivich and Aldo had set up their bombs all around outside the theater. And Omar and Donny had set their bombs up behind the scenes and were anxiously awaiting their cues. But no cue came because at that exact moment both Utivich and Aldo were being kidnapped by, the infamous, Colonel Hans Landa.

After some beatings and negotiations, Aldo finally agreed to the Colonel's demands. Meanwhile, back at the theater as the movie was reaching its climax, Lieutenant Hicox began to grow very concerned. Miss von Hammersmark was missing and had been since the movie had started, and Aldo should have giving them the go ahead to blow the theater up by now. So, he knew something was wrong. And after a quick investigation into the matter proved that his suspicions were right, and that Aldo and Utivich were no where to be found, a new plan was formulated.

Aldo had gotten a hold of his superiors on the radio that Landa had so graciously provided and they ordered Raine to do whatever it took to kill Hitler, including giving the Nazi Colonel what he wanted. He grudgingly conceded. He hated giving into the Nazi bastard's demands, but he also wanted the war to end and Hitler to die. His only regret was that all his men had to die while he got to live.

After gathering the rest of their little rag-tag team and bringing them up to speed on the new situation, the Basterds went about setting plan B into action, only to find out that another plan was in motion to kill Hitler. So, after talking to the lovely owner of the theater, Shosanna, the Basterds revised their plan to better suit what Shosanna wanted.

The Basterds left the theater, leaving all their bombs in place, and locked all the doors from the outside behind them. Then once a safe enough distance away they watched the fireworks show begin. The remaining Basterds stayed close at hand to make sure that no one survived that explosion, because it would have been a shame if that nice Jewish woman and her lover had died and Hitler had somehow survived.

Satisfied that Hitler was indeed dead, the rest of the Basterds went off to find out what had happened to their fearless leader and their wide-eye private. Because they knew that they wouldn't have just abandoned them.

Everything was running smoothly and according to plan, that was, of course, until Landa took off the handcuffs and willingly let Aldo put them on him. As soon as the Lieutenant's hands found a gun they shot and killed the young soldier that Landa had brought with him.

"Are you insane!" Landa had screamed as Raine just stared at him. Landa continued to scream at Raine, telling him that he would be executed for his insubordination once they got to the States. Raine casually told Landa that he would probably get into a bit of trouble once they did return to the States, but he assured Landa that the worst he would get was a thorough yelling at.

"Now, I reckon, that once ya become an American citizen you're gonna take off that uniform and just become another face in the crowd?" Asked the Lieutenant in his famous southern drawl. Colonel Landa said nothing, but visibly flinched away from Raine. "Now, we don't think that's right. Do we Utivich?"

"No, Sir," replied the private as he finished scalping the dead Nazi soldier.

"So, we're gonna give ya sumin' ya can't take off."

The Lieutenant pulled out his big hunting knife and used the tip of the blade to push the brim of Landa's hat farther up his forehead. At that exact moment the former Nazi Colonel's face went three shades whiter, and for the first time in his entire life the Jew Hunter knew what it felt like to be the hunted.

Now, here, without his men, Landa showed his true colors. Behind his position of power, charm, and boast was a scared, pathetic form of a man. And as Landa stared up at the slightly taller frame of Aldo Raine, eyes wide with fear and body quivering in terror, and Aldo standing over him, smiling like the cat that caught the canary, it was the perfect picture of the prey staring straight into the face of its predator.

Hellish, animal-like screams of pain resonated through the woods as Aldo carefully and precisely carved a perfect Swastika into the ex-Colonel's forehead, relishing in the fact that Hans Landa, the great Jew Hunter, was finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

"You know Utivich," said Aldo, moving back a bit and admiring his handiwork, "this could be my masterpiece."

It wasn't long after the Basterds had blown up the theater and Utivich and Raine had arrested their _prisoner_ that they all had finally caught up with each other. Each of them just as surprised as the other to see that they had all managed to come out of this thing alive.

The Basterds job had been successfully completed and it was now time for them all to go home. But before they could do that, they needed to get out of France and to a secure base in Britain, but before they could even do that they needed to find a secure radio to get in touch with their superiors and let them know they were alive and needed an airlift out of there.

These are the notes taken straight from the journals of the rag-tag team of soldiers simply known as "The Basterds," and how they escaped France.

Lt. Aldo Raine's Notes Part One

Johnson always used to take notes after he successfully completed a mission. He said it helped him keep his mind clear, and helped him remember the good missions and forget the bad ones. I never took notes before, but I decided that this mission was worth putting down on paper for future generations. Although, I can't say that this mission is a complete success until my men and I get home safely. So, until I can get home and get some proper writing equipment, I'll just document my journey from here on out.

As we were on our way to a town that was last known to us to have a working radio for American allies, we were spotted by a French man who happened to be driving by at the time. It would seem that luck was on our side, though, because he was smuggling his Jewish friend and his family back to his farm to hide them, and once he realized that the majority of us were Jewish he offered to hide us too for a while.

So there we were sitting in the back of an old hay truck, with rotting wood sides, and no tailgate. And if that wasn't bad enough, the truck wasn't exactly build to fit eight, full grown men, comfortably, not to mention that we also were riding with the French man's Jewish friend, his wife, and his daughter. We ended up being packed into the back of that truck tighter than sardines in a can.

To one side of me sat Utivich his back pressed against my shoulder while his front was pressed against Donny. To my other side sat Landa who was haphazardly squished into the corner with his hands still handcuffed behind his back and my shoulder pressed tight against his chest. Next to him sat the French man's Jewish friend, while his wife and daughter sat up front with the driver.

Next to the Jewish friend sat Hicox, and they sat shoulder to shoulder. Smashed into the other corner next to Hicox was Omar. The poor fellow looked quite distressed, like at any moment someone would fall on him and he would be squashed to death. On the other side of Omar sat Stiglitz, who looked slightly more aggravated than usual, and squished next to him sat Wicki whose back was turned to him, causing Stiglitz's shoulder to be pressed into Wicki's back.

We all felt terrible, each bump in the road was intensified ten times as it caused all of us to be crushed together even more. But we really didn't have any right to complain, seeing as how this nice French man was giving us a ride and a place to hide, out of the goodness of his heart.

A little over half an hour later and we finally arrived at the French farmer's house. The place was quaint and had a pleasant feel to it. It kind of reminded me of my home back in Maynardville, Tennessee.

The house was small, only a two bedroom, I speculated, but they had a large barn off a bit from the house. The wife of the farmer must have heard the truck pull up, because a tall, blonde woman came running out of the house and stopped to stare at us from the porch. She was probably wondering what was going on. Why her husband had so many people in the back of their truck, when he was only suppose to pick up three.

The farmer quickly ran up to his wife and they started quickly exchanging a few words in French. I suppose he was explaining about us. Well, whatever he had said had calmed her fears and she swiftly went back inside the house.

The farmer then signaled, with a wave of his hand, for us to follow him as he walked towards the barn. We all clumsily jumped out of the bed of the truck, dusting the hay off our clothes and shaking the blood back into our cramped and numb limbs.

As soon as Landa hopped down from the back of the truck I roughly grabbed his shoulder and drug him behind me. He just grunted his protest and followed clumsily behind me.

The barn was three times larger than the farmer's house and even had an impressively sized hayloft, but at the time wasn't filled with much hay. Inside the barn was an old tractor with a plowing disk attached to it, which led me to believe he grew some sort of crop. And a few bags of goat feed were scattered here and there.

"You can all stay here, for while," stated the farmer (who I learned was named Jacque Grégoire) in broken English.

"Thank you Mr. Grégoire. We are much obliged," I replied, dragging Landa over to a corner of the barn and tossing him on a pile of feed bags. "Stay here," I commanded him before turning back to Grégoire. But just as I was about to say something the barn door slowly creaked opened and in popped the head of Mrs. Grégoire and behind her came the daughter of their Jewish friend, both carrying a bundle of blankets in their arms.

"It's going to be cold tonight," informed Mrs. Grégoire in almost perfect English, but with a French accented voice, "so I brought you all some blankets." She handed a blue blanket to me. "I'm afraid that this old barn is very drafty and those blankets are very thin, so I don't think they'll keep you very warm."

"That's alright Mrs. Grégoire, we'll survive," I replied, gratefully taking a blanket from her. She gave me a sad smile.

"Sun up. Four hours. You all sleep now, Oui?" Asked Mr. Grégoire.

"My husband is right; you should all get some rest. You all look like you need it. I serve breakfast one hour after sun up, but it may be a little later in the morning. So, I'll come get you all in the morning for breakfast," replied Mrs. Grégoire as she finished handing out the blankets.

"You're very kind Mrs. Grégoire," stated Hicox.

"Thank you. I must be going now. We all have a long day tomorrow." And with that she ushered the young Jewish daughter out of the barn with her.

"Well, at least, Mrs. Grégoire speaks perfect English. I was having a hard time understanding Mr. Grégoire," stated Donny as he situated himself against some feed bags and got ready to go to sleep. "Someone should stay up and keep watch, you know?"

"I know," I answered. "We'll each take hour watches. I'll go first. Who wants to go next?" No one immediately volunteered, but after a few silent minutes Omar spoke up.

"I'll go next," said Omar.

"Then I will go after Ulmer," stated Wicki, quickly. After him Utivich took the next shift and then, the-half-asleep-but-just-conscious-enough-for-this-conversation, Donny volunteered for the next shift. After him Hicox and Stiglitz took the last shifts. After that was all sorted out, everyone started settling in to get some sleep.

Omar instantly fell asleep against the wall of the barn closest to the door, with his blanket draped around his shoulders, and snoring slightly. Stiglitz and the Brit decided to bunk down on the hay, which didn't look much more comfortable than the floor. Wicki paced around a bit before finally just taking off his jacket, wadding it up into a ball to use as a pillow and pulling his blanket over him as he lay down on the floor, off to the side of the building. Utivich decided that Donny had the right idea, so he too fell asleep on a pile of feed, using one as a pillow.

I, on the other hand, had the first shift of keeping watch, and I knew the perfect way to keep myself awake. I turned around and stared silently at Landa who was drifting in and out of sleep while trying to keep watchful eye on me. There was no way that son of a biscuit eating mongrel was going to sleep, while I had to stay up and keep watch.

"Yo, Landa," I drawled, nudging the man fully awake. "Get up. We're going up to the loft." He groaned, but got up and we walked over to the ladder which led up to the hayloft.

"Well, now what?" Snapped Landa, irritably. "How exactly do you expect me to climb this ladder with my hands tied behind my back?"

"I'm getting to that," I replied as I pulled out the keys to his handcuffs. "You know you sound like a pissy woman when you do that." I quickly undid his cuffs from behind his back, and then quickly redid them in front of him.

"I still can't climb like this."

"You're a smart guy. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

A huge smirk plastered itself onto my face as I roughly pushed him up the ladder. It was a bit harder getting up the ladder with cuffs on, but like I had told him, he was a smart guy and he did figure out how to get up onto the loft. Once I made myself comfortable, I opened up the loft's small window and looked out. There was nothing out there for miles and the only sounds I heard were the chirping of crickets and the soft snores of my sleeping men down below.

It was indeed cold out that night. When I had first opened the window it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. I poked my head out the small opening for a second and saw my breath cloud up in front of my nose as I looked this way and that. I felt the chill of the night creeping over my skin, so I unfolded the blanket Mrs. Grégoire had given me and wrapped it tightly around myself.

"So, Landa," I said turning my attention back to him, "what ya plannin' on doing when we get back to the good 'ole U. S. of A?" He shifted against the hay to make himself more comfortable and stirred up dust as he did so.

"I don't know. Retire, hopefully," he replied, looking down at his shackled wrists.

"And you think that they're just gonna let you do that?" And by _they_ I meant the United States government. I knew he knew what I meant; I could see it in his eyes. They were filled with hopelessness and fear. The same kind of hopelessness and fear one got when they realized they were at the end of their rope with no where to go but down. And for a second, the image of a small child lost in a crowded place with his eyes wide in terror as he searched for his mother's face among the throng of unknown faces, crossed my mind. I felt something, that just hours earlier I was sure I could never feel for this man. Pity. Sure, he was a cold-hearted, scheming, evil-minded bastard, but he did allow us to kill Hitler. He could have blown the whistle on Operation Kino, but he didn't. And I'm sure that for saving his life, Hitler would have greatly rewarded Landa, with maybe even more than what he was asking from the U.S.

"No, I don't."

"You've become no more use to us. And if I were to kill ya right here, right now, they wouldn't so much as wave a hand of dismissal at it. You realize that don't ya?"

"So, are you saying you are going to kill me?" I heard him swallow and saw him ever so slightly curl in on himself. I knew he was terrified.

"No. No, I'm not gonna kill ya. There's no need, 'cause as soon as we get back to the States they're gonna kill ya. Wanna know why?" He nodded silently, face turning pale. "Because we don't negotiate with terrorists."

"Is there anything that can save me?" His eyes began to fill with tears as I stared at him in silence. A few minutes passed between us and neither of us said a word. I was too deep in thought to answer his question just yet. So, I guess, after the first silent minute, he took it as a "no". Because he looked back down at his cuffs and started crying freely and openly now. And again I felt pity for him.

I don't know what was wrong with me, but every time I saw him hopeless and pathetic it made me feel bad. I was feeling bad for my worst enemy. Why was I feeling pity for a man whose main hobby, job, and lifestyle revolved around the hunting and killing of innocent Jews? Something told me it was because every time he was looking helpless and small and frightened it reminded me of a young Johnson.

"Oh, stop crying, would ya." I said more than asked. "Tell ya what, if ya help us get outta here alive, I just might put in a good word for ya. Alright?" He stopped crying, but was now just staring at me. "They might be willing to not kill ya if they find out that you've been helping us out in France and all. They may just settle for the whole 'put you under constant surveillance' thing." I shrugged my shoulders and turned back around toward the window.

"Do you think so?"

"If," I emphasized, "I put in a good word for ya."

"Alright."

For the next forty minutes we talked about random things, like our home towns, our friends, family, and even the type of books we read. He was quite impressed with the literature I preferred to read. Which really annoyed me, because he took me at face value and assumed I was just some uneducated, country hick.

Finally, my hour watch was up and I could get some much needed sleep. Being nice, I even help Landa down from the loft before, unceremoniously, dumping him back onto a pile of dusty feed bags in the corner. I walked over to a sleeping Omar and silently shook him awake.

"Hey," I whispered, "it's your watch." He nodded swiftly before standing up and stretching a bit. "Oh, and if ya need company to keep ya awake, Landa here will be than happy to oblige." And with that I slapped Landa's shoulder, hard, and woke him back up. He awoke with a start and stared at us for a few seconds before Omar just shook his head and told us that he would be fine.

Landa fell back to sleep quickly, while I made myself comfy against a not-so-comfy wall and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

I don't know how long I was asleep. It could have been five minutes or five hours for all I knew. But what I did know was that something had awoken me. I listen closely and could hear faint, muffled noises. I looked around and noticed that two of my men had disappeared and only one should have been on watch. I sprang to my feet and stealthily made my way to the cracked open barn door and slipped into the darkness outside, pistol in hand.

I stood silently outside the barn door for a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness and straining my ears to hear where the sounds were coming from. Once I could tell from which direction the noises were coming from and I could partially see in the dark, I made my way over to the sounds.

The sounds were coming from the other side of the barn, so once I was near the corner I stopped and slowly peeked my head around. What I saw shocked me into complete stillness.

Corporal Wilhelm Wicki had Private Omar Ulmer pinned to the outside wall of the barn and was trying to stick his tongue as far down Private Omar's throat as it would go. Now, I would have thought that the Corporal was assaulting the young Private, had it not been for all the touching and grabbing of certain body parts that both parties were taking part in. And the moaning sounds Omar was making.

Well, I had seen more than I needed to. I quickly turned around and headed back into the barn. I'm actually not surprised to find two of my soldiers making out behind the barn, in fact, the only thing that surprised me was the fact that it was Wicki and Omar. I never thought that they liked each other that way. Now, Donny and Utivich I could see. There's definitely something between them two, and even though I've never actually caught them doing anything, I have my assumptions. But for now I'm just going to get some rest.

**A/N: Hate it? State it! But even if you love it tell me. There may be some grammar mistakes, if you find any please tell me so I can improve my writing skills.**

**So there you have it the first chapter of Fall Away. I know, kind of slow and boring, huh? But I had to start the story some how. I promise more slash in the next few chapters if anyone's still interested.**

**Next chapter - Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki's Notes Part One and his heavy make-out scene with Omar. If you want to read it please let me know. Thanks. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, chapter two. Characters are OOC, sorry about that, but as I said before it's hard to get them in character when some of them only have one or two lines in the whole movie. Please enjoy anyway.**

**Warnings: SLASH! More precisely, Wilhelm Wicki/Omar Ulmer slash. Weird, I know. Super cheesy story ahead!**

**Special thanks to ****LolliDictator.**

Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki's Notes Part One

Lieutenant Raine handed me a pen and a pad the other day. He said I looked like I had something heavy weighing on my mind. He was right, of course. He suggested that I write down what was on my mind so that I could see all my thoughts on paper and, perhaps, that would help me straighten them out.

At the time I didn't feel like writing anything down. So, instead I pocketed the pen and pad and forgot all about them, until I saw Lieutenant Raine sitting by himself, writing stuff down on a pocket notebook. It was funny, because I never took him for the type to keep a journal. Assuming that it was a journal he was keeping, that is. It could have been a letter he was writing or notes he was taking, but even so, it was odd to see him so absorbed in something other than Nazi killing.

Lately, lots of things have been bothering me, but one thing more than the others. So, in an effort to clear my head and sort through my jumbled thoughts I have decided to keep a journal or notes, if you prefer.

I don't exactly remember when I had first started feeling this way, but it had to be sometime not long after I had joined the Basterds. At first, we all didn't get along too well, but after a bit of Nazi scalping together we started to become friends.

At first, I didn't exactly know every one by name. I knew Lieutenant Raine, of course, but many of the other Basterds remained unknown to me. Especially, one Jewish boy who, at first, was known to me only as the other, short, Jewish boy. Utivich I knew because he always stuck around with Raine. The boy has some kind of hero worship thing going for Raine. Omar, on the other hand, barely spoke to me or stuck around me long enough to start a conversation. That all changed after I saved his head from being blown to pieces by a Nazi sniper.

Later that evening, when we had overtaken the Nazi camp and were riffling through their documents and stuff, Omar approached me to thank me.

"Hey, thanks Wicki," he said. "I didn't even see that sniper behind the tree. You really saved my life."

"No problem," I told him, "we're comrades now."

After that we started talking more and, in time, he started to grow on me. I began to prefer his company over the other Basterds, but it wasn't until I walked in on Utivich and Donowits making out did I realize I had feelings for Omar. Needless to say, after I had caught Utivich and Donny in that particular situation we were all red up to the ears for a couple of days.

A few weeks after that incident, Omar and I were sent into town to pick up supplies. It was supposed to be a simple job, but when is anything every simple?

We were just walking along the dirt path that led back to our temporary camp, when I saw two German soldiers walking our way. Thinking quickly, I tossed the bundle of supplies I had in my hands into some thick brush at the side of the road, before launching myself at Omar and knocked him into the brush with the supplies. I landed with a soft thud on top of him and I heard his breath escape him. Thankfully, the brush was thick enough to hide us and the German soldier's hadn't spotted us. I lifted myself up off of Omar, my arms supporting all my weight as I heard him hold his breath. I watched him shift his gaze from me to some point behind my head, but I dared not move and look for myself, because I already knew what he was staring at.

The next few seconds were the most intense seconds of my life. My own breath caught in my throat and my arms started to cramp painfully as they supported me. And in the next minute I heard the soldier's footsteps walk briskly past us, their idle chit chat continuing vivaciously. Once we could no longer hear their footfalls or voices, we decided that it was safe to leave, but I wasn't ready to go just yet.

"I think it's okay for us to leave now," whispered Omar, staring up at me, waiting for me to move off him so he could get up. But I didn't. Even if my arms were protesting painfully against the strain I was putting on them.

For some reason I couldn't stop staring at his lips, and in the next second I realized that I had actually started kissing him. I don't even remember leaning down and capturing his lips with my own.

For a moment, I could tell that I had caught him off guard as his body stiffened under me. But after a non-responsive second, he returned the kiss with renewed energy. Apparently, I wasn't the only one starved for that kind of attention.

The making-out only lasted a few minutes, to my utter disappointment, and when we pulled away for air he looked completely flustered and embarrassed. I had been wanting to do that for quite awhile, but he looked like the idea of us (making-out) had never crossed his mind before it had happened.

"We should…" he panted, "…get going." And with that I rolled off him and then we both proceeded to make our way back to camp. We never spoke of the incident ever again, nor did we do anything even remotely close to anything like that again.

So now, in what felt like decades later, we had finally succeeded in killing Hitler and have, somehow, ended up being crammed into the back of some French farmer's old truck, driving to who knows where, in the middle of the night.

In the bed of the truck, I was sitting on the corner edge of the back-end with Stiglitz's shoulder cutting painfully into my back. I wished that here was enough room so that I could, at least, sit properly. And with every bump we met in the road came the threat of me falling completely out of the truck.

Looking around, I spotted Omar, crushed into the corner. His knees were drawn into his chest and his eyes were wide, like at any moment he expected us to get ambushed and killed. At that thought I consciously checked for my pistol. Yep, still there.

Glancing over to the other side, I saw Landa, who looked even more petrified than Omar and with good reason too. His eyes were as equally large as Omar's, his hair was disheveled, and the Swastika carved into his forehead was crusted with dried blood.

Feeling a headache coming on, I rubbed my left eye with the palm of my hand and tried to lean back a bit to get comfortable. But it was a futile attempt as we hit a ditch in the road and it sent my shoulder blade crashing against the side rail of the truck.

I cursed under my breath and had to re-adjust myself into a least-likely-to-break-a-bone position. I as shifted, uncomfortable, I noticed that Hugo seemed to be a little more agitated than usual. Sure, maybe it was because of our unfavorable riding conditions, because everyone seemed a little on edge about that, but Hugo was always a strong, stoic guy who could endure pain with the best of them. So, I doubted our riding condition was the whole reason for his death glare at everyone.

About an hour later we arrived at the farmer's quaint farm, as Lieutenant Raine had put it. I watched as the farmer scuttled off to talk to his wife and when he returned we all followed him into his barn. After Raine had thanked the farmer for his hospitality, his wife came in carrying a pile of blankets and behind her followed the teenage daughter of the farmer's Jewish friend. I nodded politely when she handed me a blanket, and listen intently to what Mrs. Grégoire was saying. I was quite relieved that she spoke English much better than her husband, because he was becoming an ear sore.

After Mr. and Mrs. Grégoire had left, Danny made the comment of someone keeping watch to make sure that no one had followed us. Lieutenant Raine took the first watch, and then Omar volunteered for the second shift, so I decided to take the third shift, but with different intentions than just keeping watch.

I watched as everyone got settled in to get some sleep. Donny was the first one out, sleeping where he sat. Omar sat down and propped himself up against a barn wall, with the blanket wrapped around him and fell asleep instantly.

Trying to decide where to sleep, I paced around a bit before taking off my jacket and rolling it up into a ball. I decided to just sleep where I stood, so I laid down on the floor and used my balled up jacket as a pillow as I covered myself with Mrs. Grégoire's scratchy blanket.

Soon, I drifted off to sleep. I planned on getting a little sleep before Omar's shift came up and I had to get up and have a little chat with him. There were a few things I wanted to ask him that needed to be asked in private.

An hour later I was awoken by the sound of soft boots against creaking wood. I split my eyes open just a hair to see Raine drag his _captive_ over to a pile of feed and sit him down on it. Then Raine woke Omar and had a short exchange with him before Omar got up and headed for the barn door. Raine sat down against a wall and went to sleep.

I lay there for a few minutes longer, pretending to sleep, but I couldn't go back to sleep even if I wanted to. My nerves were keeping me wide awake. My mind was reeling with the images of that evening when Omar and I kissed.

When I was sure that Lieutenant Raine and his _prisoner_ were asleep, I swiftly and silently exited the barn in search of Omar. I had seen him walk out of the barn about twenty minutes earlier and I could no longer hear his footsteps, which told me that he probably wasn't coming back inside.

When I stepped out into the night air, I felt like I was inhaling ice water. I shivered and pulled my jacket tighter around myself. Not that it helped much. I walked quickly around the barn, my boots making crunching noises against the grass and gravel with every step I took. And as I had expected, when I turned the corner there was Omar, hand on his gun and ready to fight. But once he saw that it was me his tense shoulders relaxed and his hand fell away from his pistol.

"Not very stealthy. I could hear you coming from a mile away," whisper Omar as he turned away from me to watch the road instead.

"Wasn't trying to be stealthy," I replied, coming to stand next to him and also stare at the miles of empty, farm road ahead of us.

"So what do you need? It's not your shift yet."

"I know, but I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd keep you company." He saw through my lie as easily as if it had been made out of glass. He shifted, uncomfortably, and moved ever so slightly away from me.

"So…" he started, drawling out the word in what I presumed to be an attempt to figure out how to word his next question. "What are you going to do when all this is over? Can you go home? What will you do if you can't?"

"I don't know," I answered, honestly. I guess, I figured that if I couldn't go home (what home there was left, that is) that I'd move to America. I could read and speak perfect English. If I moved there I could simply vanish amongst the other millions of people.

"Well, that's stupid." He finally turned to look at me, and shocked by his blunt remark, I turned to look at him. His nose, tips of his ears, and the skin covering his high cheek bones were all tainted a dark pink color from where the cold night air bit at them. In the pale moonlight his eyes looked dark and mysterious, which had me wondering just what those same eyes would like clouded with lust.

We stared, silently, at each other for a moment, him with a large smirk on his face and me with a confused look on mine, our breaths coming out in small, smoky clouds that mixed and evaporated in between us.

"I mean," he explained, "it seems kind of stupid to me that you did all this without having some sort of plan for when all this was over."

"I kind of figured that I'd be dead before all _this_ was over."

"I see." He stated as he turned back around and continued to stare out in front of us. "Stupid," he mumbled as he laughed, lightly.

"Well, okay then Mr. Genius," I mocked, a smile creeping on my face. "What is your brilliant plan for when this is all over?"

He let out a long and heavy sigh. "I guess that I'm a bit of a hypocrite. I don't even have a plan myself."

"What? Can't you go home?"

"Probably not. I left home as soon as I graduated high school, without so much as telling anyone goodbye. So, I doubt my parents will be too thrilled to see me again. We never got along much before anyways."

There was a moment silence as I took in what Omar had just told me. I would have never guessed that Omar was on bad terms with his family or that he had ran away to join the army. But, nevertheless, I was happy that he found me worthy to be privy of this knowledge.

"Stupid," I finally mumbled back to Omar and we both laughed.

"I guess we're up the same creek without a paddle."

I turned back to look at him and the awkwardness that was there before was now gone, replaced with a friendly kind of comfort. I figured that if I wanted any time alone with him, without anyone else to interfere, now would be the perfect time.

I knew he had let his guard down, so coupling that with the fact that I was both taller and stronger than him gave me a distinct advantage.

I quickly grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him against the barn wall. I tried to do it as quietly as I could. The last thing I needed was someone walking in on us.

"What are you…?" He asked, his voice a bit higher than normal. And there on his face was that same petrified look that I had saw earlier that evening, on the ride over here.

"How do you feel about me?" I blurted out, "You must feel something for me, or otherwise you wouldn't have returned that kiss." His eyes widen a bit more, if that was even possible and I knew he was on the verge of reaching for his gun. I could feel him slowly reaching for it; not to shoot me, but he'd probably pistol whip me with it.

"Listen, that night was just… Just," he stuttered, acting like a frightened and cornered animal. "We were both acting out our physical needs. And God knows, we hadn't had any, um, physical comfort for quite awhile."

"Alright," I said, placidly, "if it was just you acting out your physical needs, then why didn't you take that pretty redhead back to your room that night at the bar after our kiss? You could have." And he could have. Weeks after our first kiss we had gone to a bar and a pretty, little redhead who was drunk off her rocker was just looking for someone to take her back to their place with them. But no matter how much rubbing up against Omar she did, he would simply smile and turn her down.

"I- I didn't find her attractive."

"Bull!" I practically yelled, causing him to flinch. "I'll make you a deal." He stared at me warily, but with a hint of curiosity under his cautious gaze. "Let me kiss you again. And afterwards you tell me how you feel about me. If you don't like it, we'll never do it again. But if just don't want to kiss me, just say the word and I'll stop here and now and never bother you ever again, I promise."

He swallowed, audibly. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he thought over my proposition. And with every second that passed I felt my hope rise and fall drastically. I hoped that he would say yes and let me kiss him, but I was also scared of his rejection. He was sending me on an emotional roller coaster that I had never been on before, and I wished that the ride would just stop already.

He finally looked me straight in the eye and nodded his head. He gave me consent to kiss him. I couldn't believe it, and yet at the same time could. Now it was my turn to swallow nervously.

I released my grip on his shoulders and gently took his face in my hands. My calloused fingers brushing against his soft skin, lightly. It was such a strange sensation; it sent what felt like sparks of electricity charging through my arm and straight to my core. I moved my face, slowly, closer to his. He flinched away, and it felt like someone had jabbed me in the chest when he did, but I never forced his head to stay in place. I only kept my hands there as an anchor for myself.

He flinched again, and about that time I was about to call the whole thing off when he shocked me with what he did next. He gradually leaned his head closer to mine, till he was about an inch away from me. I watched as his eyes flicked from my eyes to my lips and then stopped to stare, silently, at them. So, I finally covered his lips with my own.

It was a slow and tender kiss, nothing like our first rough and sloppy one, but just as intense. I pulled him closer to me, moving my lips roughly against his as he did the same, until finally I pulled away. I needed to know how he felt about me, and now. Otherwise, I think I might have gone insane.

I pulled away quickly and stared at him, waiting for his answer. He was gasping for air like he had just run a three day marathon.

"I don't know what to think anymore," he told me, staring up at me with pleading eyes.

"Then don't," I replied, releasing his face. "Do whatever you want. It's up to you now."

He let out a shaky breath as trembling hands reached for my face. I stopped them by catching them with my own, and then leaned down and kissed him again. This one was even more intense than the last, and I found my hands roaming, unrestricted, all over Omar's body, but he didn't seem to mind, if his moans where anything to judge by.

As our kiss progressed on, I darted my tongue out and licked his bottom lip, slowly, making him moan very seductively. He opened his mouth to me without disapproval, allowing my tongue free reign over his mouth.

He tasted bitter and sweet at the same time, which I had never thought possible before, and it was intoxicating. He moaned again as he tentatively placed his hands on my stomach and his fingers found the buttons to my shirt.

I pulled away from his addicting lips and stared into his glossy, lust clouded eyes, and felt a moment of smug satisfaction.

My hands, which had wandered away from me, had found comfort on Omar's body. One on the small of his back, pulling him closer and the other on the hem of his pants. As my hand on the hem of his pants began to creep under the garment, I felt cool fingers slip under my shirt, after they had tackled the obstacle of unbuttoning the buttons.

When his hands began to move up my chest I couldn't help but moan as the feeling left a tingling sensation in its wake. After a few more torturous seconds of this, I let out a guttural growl and started nipping at the soft flesh of Omar's neck. He moaned louder and I shoved him, roughly, against the barn wall again and pinned him to it.

At some point I felt as though someone was watching us, but my attention was quickly pulled back to Omar when I felt deft hands fiddle with my belt. And when his fingers brushed against my groin, I found myself automatically grinding my erection into his hand. I could also feel his own need pressing against my thigh, which only made me more aroused.

Moving the collar of his shirt farther down his shoulder and exposing that tantalizing bit of flesh, I bit down hard at the junction of where neck met shoulder, marking him in the most primitive way possible. I heard him stifle a yelp, but afterwards I was immediately soothing the agitated flesh with my tongue.

I felt liquid heat pool in my groin, and I knew I wasn't going to last long. And his clever hands weren't being too clever tonight as they were still messing with my stupid belt. Finally, I just said forget it, and slipped one of my hands into his pants and wrapped it around his erection. He jumped from surprise and looked me straight in the eyes as I pulled away from his neck. I wanted to see the look on his face as I made him come.

I watched his face flash with different emotions and expressions with every movement I made with my hand, and I soaked them all in and seared them to memory. I watched the quick rise and fall of his chest with every gasp of breath he took. The way his face contorted into a look of pain and pleasure as I took him in my hand. And the way his eyes looked dark with lust and pleading for me to pleasure him in any way possible. It was a beautiful look on him.

I few more twists of my wrist and he was coming in his pants. After watching that, it wasn't long before I came too.

Stars exploded in front of my eyes as my pleasure reached its peak and pushed me over it. For a moment it was hard to breath and my vision went black as I was overcome by the sensation. But soon I was coming down from my high and my vision slowly returned. The first thing I saw was Omar's sweaty and panting figure as I still had him pressed up against the barn wall.

"That was better than I thought," panted Omar. "We should definitely do that again."

"We should do more than just that," I replied, pushing myself off of Omar and taking a seat against the barn wall next to him. I was currently floating on cloud nine while drunk on euphoria.

"Yeah, definitely."

**A/N: There you have it chapter two. Urgh… It's sooooo cheesy. I can't help it. I really like soft and romantic love stories, and can only seem to write those types of stories. Oh, well, I hope you still enjoyed it anyways… Anyone who is still reading this that is.**

**Next chapter - Lt. Archie Hicox's notes. Hicox/Stiglitz slash!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Characters may seem a bit OOC to you, but this is how I see them reacting (and acting) to a situation like this. I hope they're still entertaining anyways. Also, if you're looking for a story overflowing with testosterone and angry sex scenes, bordering on rape or even rape. Then you have the wrong story! I hate rape! And I it hate when someone forces someone else to do something they're uncomfortable with!**

**In this story, however, I do try to make the men masculine without being overbearingly so. I try to delve into their psyche and figure out how they work, and create a better character that way. And I can do angry sex scenes, so long as both parties are willing! And I also hate mushy, lovey-dovey, overly fluffy Inglourious Basterds stories, so there will be none of that in here. These are men here! Strong, in-the-army men! And should be respected as such. I will, however, write more lighthearted and romantic scenes that are considered fluff. Fluff is good. It's tender caresses and just enjoying the fact that your loved one is near, and every human being does that. Over-fluff is when someone writes a story and changes the lead girl character into a guy and calls it a day. **

**Warnings: Sexual harassment, nothing bad! Get your mind out of the gutter! Didn't you read my above statement!**

**Special thanks to Cutie Pie 9335 thank you for the wonderful review! It made me so happy, and being a newbie here reviews like your's mean a lot. And I hope you enjoy this next installment and I hope I did your favorite character justice. **

Lt. Archie Hicox's Notes Part One

We've had a run of good luck lately; first with the success of operation Kino, then with coming across someone who was willing to hide us for a few days, but I can't help but wonder when our run of good luck will run out.

When I was first told that I would be a part of operation Kino I was, to be honest, ecstatic. But once I learned that I would be backpacking it around a Nazi occupied, French forest, with a bunch of Nazi scalping Yanks; not so ecstatic anymore.

When I first met _The Basterds_, as they had been dubbed, I thought that for sure they didn't have a brain among them. But I was, thankfully, proven wrong. It would seem that their fearless, Tennessee backwoods leader, Aldo Raine, did have a brain in that skull of his. His plans were, surprisingly, original and for the most part almost always worked.

Hours felt like days and months felt like years, as I tagged along with this rag-tag team of American soldiers. And, all in all, it wasn't quite as bad as I had first imagined it to be. For the most part, they were all extremely focused and I never had to worry about getting shot in the back by an enemy bullet, someone always had my back and in return I had theirs'. Together we formed, some sort of, dysfunctional family, I guess you could say. As the days progressed I began to learn more and more about my unusual teammates.

First, there's Lieutenant Aldo Raine, the gentile leader of _The Basterds_, and a southerner from Maynardville, Tennessee. Aldo is also known as_ Aldo the Apache_, due to his proclivity for scalping all his Nazi kills like an Apache Indian.

The most eye-catching quality Aldo has is a long scar on his neck that starts at one ear and ends at the other. I had once asked him how he had received such a scar and he simply stated that it was from a lynching gone wrong. I found myself unconsciously rubbing at my own neck.

Next is Sergeant Donny Donowits and he too has a nickname among the Germans. He is known as _The Bear Jew_. He is also Aldo's closest and oldest friend among the Basterds. His weapon of choice is a wooden baseball bat, signed by fellow members of his Boston Jewish community with names of their loved ones in Europe. He is so feared amongst the German military that and some believe he is a golem, and therefore cannot be killed.

Omar Ulmer is commonly known as the other, short, Jewish boy in the group, right after Utivich. I don't know much about him. He doesn't talk about himself much, but he's as much a Basterd as the rest of them, taking delight in the killing and scalping of Nazi soldiers.

Smithson Utivich, a Basterd nicknamed _The Little Man_. He is a bit of a wise-ass sometimes and will follow anything Lt. Aldo Raine asks him to do. He kind of hero worships the man. And, although, I don't know his exact age, his wide-eyed adoration toward Aldo makes me believe that he is one of the youngest of the group.

Wilhelm Wicki is a Corporal who, although born in Austria, left for America when the rumors of the Nazi invasion surfaced, and joined the Basterds to take revenge on the people who killed his family and destroyed his homeland. He is a perfect marksman and is not afraid to shoot to kill any Nazi that gets in his way. He also has a penchant for black coffee, something I thought I'd just put in there.

And lastly there is Sergeant Hugo Stiglitz. A Basterd who became infamous for his brutal and sadistic ways of murdering Nazis. He became imprisoned by the Nazis, but was rescued and recruited by Aldo. He is a quiet, stern man who also specializes in espionage, which was proven by our success in both the underground bar and the movie theater.

My first impression of Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz was that he was a very intimidating fellow, and to be honest, that is still my impression of him. What makes him so frightening is the fact that you can never tell what he is thinking. And the whole, seems-to-be-dancing-on-the-edge-of-sanity thing could be another factor.

When I watch him kill I see anger, glee, sadism, and an uncontrollable rage. And while his killing techniques are something to look at in awe, all fluid and controlled strikes, the fact that he takes that much joy in it, scares me. I only wish that he will never look at me that way.

I was one of the first to wake up that morning; Stiglitz was already awake, having taken the last shift. And Utivich was also missing, but I didn't ponder long on where he could have gone, I had to go relieve my stressed bladder.

The French country side was a beautiful sight to be held, if you ever had any time to look at it without worrying too much as to where your gun was and if anyone was watching you. Although, I still had to worry about those things, I didn't have to stress about them as much as I did a week earlier.

On my way back to the barn, after I had relieved myself, I ran into Mrs. Grégoire. "Good morning Mrs. Grégoire," I said, waving a bit in a morning greeting.

"Good Morning Mister…" She trailed off.

"Hicox, Lieutenant Archie Hicox," I finished for her.

"Good morning Lieutenant. I was just on my way to see if you boys were up for breakfast yet, but if you'd like I can let you all sleep for another hour or so."

"No, no. It's fine. Go right ahead." And with that I moved out of her way and let her walk ahead of me.

When we entered the barn everyone was up and about, doing their business. "Good morning boys," greeted Mrs. Grégoire.

"Well, good morning, Ma'am," said Raine walking over to Mrs. Grégoire as I moved over to sit next to Donny who was riffling through one our surviving rucksacks. It held a few provisions, but not enough for all of us. We were going to need to get some supplies somehow.

"I just wanted to see if you were all ready for breakfast," stated Mrs. Grégoire.

"Breakfast would be wonderful," replied Raine, acting every bit the southern gentleman he was.

"Good, and I laid out some towels next to the water spigot on the other side of the house, if any of you wish to wash up," she said looking around at us. We were probably a sight to see, all bloody, sweaty, and covered in ash, but now that she mentioned it I would like to wash up a bit. "I'll be back in a bit with breakfast."

When she had left Donny called out to Raine. "What is it?" Raine asked.

"Someone is going to need to sneak into town and get provisions," explained Donny. So, I stayed where I was seated and peeked over Donny's shoulder and took a look inside the rucksack. There was definitely not enough to last us.

"He's right Raine," I pointed out, "especially since we don't know how long it is we'll be staying here."

He walked over to us and began to rub his chin in that particular manner that the he usually did. "I realize that," he said. "We'll figure something out. But first off, you're right we're going to need supplies, we'll have someone run into town later. For now let's just wash up and have breakfast."

Donny stood and stretched his back as Raine walked back over to where Landa sat. There was a slight exchange between Raine and Landa, but I wasn't much paying attention to what they were saying, I was busy trying to figure out who would be the best candidate to sneak into town, but the next thing I knew, Raine had tried to pull Landa up by the arm and Landa had pulled his arm out of Raine's grasp.

Landa must have said something because Raine replied by telling him that he was his prisoner. They just stood there for a while just staring at each other. By now Raine was seething and I wouldn't have been surprised if in the next second he choked Landa to death. But I have to give him credit for having more self-control than I initially thought.

"Fine!" Raine finally yelled. "If ya don't have'ta take a piss, ya can just stay 'ere with Donny and the boys."

Raine started to walk away from Landa and I heard Donny snicker from beside me. I just knew that once Raine left the barn, Landa would become Donny's new piñata. I'm pretty sure Landa knew it too. But Raine only took about five or six steps before he stopped and looked back at Landa. He was giving him one last chance to change his mind, and Landa took it, jogging up next to Raine.

Soon, everybody else began to file out of the barn, until it was just Stiglitz and I left. And even though, I would like to consider us somewhat friends and comrades, Stiglitz still scares the crap out of me. And lately he had been scaring me more than usual. Ever since that bar incident where we almost got killed, but Stiglitz had my back throughout the whole, situation-almost-turned-fiasco and, in the end, I ended up respecting him a little bit more. But after that I've noticed him noticing me more. I've caught him staring at me for long periods of time when he thought I didn't know, and lately he's procured this creepy habit of sneaking up on me when I least expect it. But I don't know, maybe it's just me overreacting. I just wish he'd stop staring at me like he does, though. I don't know how to explain it; he looks at me like a dog would a piece of meat, but not exactly. There's something else to his stare. Curiosity, perhaps? Like I'm a puzzle he's trying to figure out, but can't quite get all the pieces to fit. So, basically I'm a meat puzzle in his eyes, I guess you could say.

Stiglitz and I stared at each other for a long time. The air in the room began to feel thick and heavy. My throat constricted and it was beginning to get hard for me to breath. I know I was being ridiculous. Stiglitz wouldn't hurt me. Right?

Stiglitz looked like he wanted to say something to me, he even opened his mouth to voice his thoughts, but just then the barn door creaked open and in stepped Utivich.

"Hicox! Stiglitz!" He called to us, a bead of water falling off the wet tips of his dark hair. "I ran into Mrs. Grégoire a minute ago and she told me to tell everyone that breakfast would be in half an hour."

I nodded to Utivich and said, "Thanks." Stiglitz just walked past us and out of the barn. Whatever he was about to say, he wasn't going to now, and I didn't know whether to be relieved or worried.

"Hey, Utivich?" I asked once he and I were alone. "Does Stiglitz seem to be acting a little… Strange lately to you?"

He looked up at me curiously before saying, "No more than usual. No."

"Then it's probably just me." I stated, laughing nervously.

"Don't worry about it too much. Stiglitz is a strange guy to begin with."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right," I replied as I ran a hand through my filthy hair. "I'm going to wash up a bit. I think this dried on ash is trying to merge with my body to form a second skin."

As I exited the barn, both Donny and Wicki were entering it. They seemed to be in a deep discussion over the predicament we had found ourselves in. And as I rounded the corner of the house, on my to the water spigot, I passed Lieutenant Raine dragging a chained Landa behind him.

"Hey, Archie," greeted Raine. "Goin' to wash up?"

"Yes, actually," I replied.

"Well, while yer ther' could ya tell Hugo to hurry it up?"

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Oh, and one more thing. Have ya seen Omar this morning'?"

"Is he not at the spigot with Stiglitz?"

"Naw, haven't seen 'im all morning'."

"Well, me either, but I'll keep an eye out for him." Where could he have gotten off to?

As I made it to the back porch I saw Stiglitz taking off his shirt and inspecting a large blood stain on the sleeve. It was weird how I hadn't noticed it before, I mean, it did stand out quite a bit. But I guess that's what happens when I worry too much about myself instead about my comrades. I felt bad.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, walking over to him.

"Not my blood," he simply replied, never once taking his eyes off the blood spot. I looked at the bloody shirt and then at his arms and noticed that both his arms were free of any cuts or abrasions.

"So it isn't," I replied, giving him a relieved smile. I walked over to the porch and took off my wrinkled jacket and laid the garment on it.

Even though I didn't look over my shoulder and see for myself, I knew that Stiglitz was watching my every move very closely. I could feel his eyes on me. His gaze made my skin crawl

"So," I said, trying to break his concentration so he would stop staring at me like that. "Lieutenant Raine wanted me to tell you to hurry it up if you wanted to get any breakfast. Because I'm sure that if we take too long cleaning up they'll eat everything up on us." I quickly started rolling up the sleeves of my shirt. I was going to take it completely off and scrub down a bit, but now with Stiglitz staring at me, relentlessly, I felt extremely uncomfortable. And embarrassingly hot. I was sure that I was blushing. How embarrassing.

I rolled up the sleeves only about halfway up, then walked over to the spigot and turned it on, all the while trying to ignore Stiglitz intense gaze. "So, how did you sleep last night?" I tried again at a conversation with Stiglitz. "I have to say a wooden barn floor is not one of the most ideal place to sleep."

I laughed nervously as Stiglitz just continued to stare at me with that piercing gaze. Cupping my hands, I caught some water in them and splashed some in my face. The water was ice cold and barely cooled me off. I felt like I was back in that bar with that Major picking away at me, seeing every flaw in my disguise, and waiting for the right moment to kill me.

I turned around and there stood Stiglitz, holding out a dry towel for me to use. I took it graciously and thanked him.

"Are you saying that you didn't sleep well last night, Lieutenant?" He asked so calmly that it almost seemed apathetical.

"Well, at the time, I didn't much care. I was so tired that I fell asleep before I had time to criticize my sleeping conditions. But now that I'm awake, my back protests about my sleeping arrangements." I answered, drying off my face and arms. I then walked past him and threw the now wet towel onto the porch. "We should get going before Raine comes looking for us."

I grabbed my jacket off the porch and started walking off, but just then Stiglitz grabbed my arm and pulled me back around the house.

"Yes," I stuttered as I allowed Stiglitz to drag me farther away from the barn and out of everyone's sights. Had I made him mad somehow? Surely he wouldn't kill me for it? Not now anyways; there are too many people around who would know that he killed me. Then again, he's not exactly known for being mentally stable. "Sergeant Stiglitz, is there something that I could, perhaps, help you with?"

"Yes," he grunted.

"Which would be?"

"Shut up."

I only had enough time to knit my brows up in confusion before my mouth was being savagely attacked by Stiglitz's. Subtle much?

I quickly place my hands against his chest to push him off me and couldn't help but notice how well defined the man was. Nothing but pure muscle rippled underneath the palms of my hands. It spoke of things like strength, power, and _control_. And it scared me, and yet excited me at the same time. And then I didn't know what scared me more, the fact that he could overpower me and have his way with me or the fact that that thought excited me.

I struggled against him a bit more before finally managing to push him off me, but he boxed me in by forcing me against the wall and placing his arms on both sides of me.

"Listen," I said sternly. Perhaps I could talk him down, so that this situation wouldn't have to turn physical. Because if it came to that you could be sure I would fight. "When I asked you if there was something I could help you with, I was offering to help you with something mundane, like carrying something or whatnot. I was not offering sex." He just raised an eyebrow at me in a silent question. I smiled nervously. I feared nothing of what I was saying was getting to him. "I'm sure you're a real ladies' man and a real charmer when properly motivated…" I slowly tried to push one of the arms that were pinning me in, down and was happy to find that it went without any resistance. "…but perhaps I'm not the right person for you." I swiftly slipped around him and slowly started backing away from him. "You see, I'm just not right for you. And I'm sure when we get out of here, you'll find some lovely lady to sweep off her feet, and you'll look back at this moment and realize how foolish you were acting."

"Maybe," he replied as he, literally, stalked toward me.

"Yeah, maybe. So glad we had this conversation," I was getting worried again, but he stopped coming at me and bent down and picked up his bloody shirt he had discarded earlier and slipped into it. "We should get going."

"Yes."

I turned and Stiglitz followed closely behind me as we walked back to the barn. On our way there, I turned to glance back at him and for the first time in a long time his expression changed. It went from calm and slightly annoyed to one I could have sworn said, "You'll come around."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and kept walking.

**A/N: ooooo… Tensions are rising. Sexual tensions that is! o.O **

**So in this one we have Stiglitz as the totally hot stalker and Hicox the victim. I imagine Hicox would be a bit shy/ reluctant/ in denial at first, and Stiglitz has to kind of prove his worth to him. But that's just how I perceive them, if you see them differently feel free to write your own fic and let me know about it, because I would love to read it.**

**Also, I would have had this up earlier except my power went out. I kid you not. I was sitting in front of my computer typing away and then suddenly the power just went out. Gone! I was like, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" When it finally came back on I had to rewrite the last thing I was writing. Oh, well, it's up now.**

**Again there may be some grammar mistakes, if you find any please let me know so I can correct them. I do all the editing myself, so I can't guarantee that my stories are all error free.**

**And with that, thank you for reading. If you would like to read more please let me know. Show a girl some love and I'll write more. So review. Thank you.**

**I'll post the next chapter if no one thought this one was horrible and would like to continue reading. So, next chapter - Col. Hans Landa's Notes Part One. Slight Raine/Landa slash! **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I would have had this chapter up earlier, but my backyard caught on fire and I was the only one home at the time. It's so weird and frightening to look out your window and just see black smoke rising up from some point in your backyard.**

**So, anyways, hope this next chapter's worth the wait, although, not much happens in this one. Just Landa developing some feelings for Raine which he is thoroughly confused about. Also I have no idea where in France they were so I picked a place and made up some towns.**

**Warnings: Raine/Landa. Nothing much. Still developing Raine and his relationship. Um, hand fetish, but just a slight one.**

**Special thanks to ****Cutie Pie 9335 ****for all your support. Comments like yours keep this story going. So thanks again.**

**Also, special thanks to ****KitaroJeevas. ****I don't get a lot of comments or followers, so thanks for the encouragement. it really means a lot to me!**

Col. Hans Landa's Notes Part One

So my plans haven't quite gone as I had hoped, and now I find myself a prisoner of The Basterds. And the entire 23 hours I have been their prisoner, never has Raine so much as let me out of arm's reach. He has either kept a very close eye on me or held me by my arm.

I have lost total control over the situation, but if I play my cards right I may be able to get out of this alive and with all my limbs still intact.

At first, I thought that I was, for certain, a dead man. I believed that as soon as The Basterds had gotten to some secluded area where my body wouldn't have been found for a while, that they would have killed me. And I truly believe that they would have, had it not been for Lieutenant Raine.

Lieutenant Raine is quite different from what I had expected, and yet not at the same time. When I had first heard about the great and fearsome _Aldo the Apache,_ I envisioned I tall brute with a mind as wicked and vindictive as my own, but without my suave charisma, of course. And then when I first met him I believed him to be nothing more than a backwoods hick with more brawns than brains. But after spending some time with him, I learned this to be a snap judgment.

Aldo Raine wasn't stupid, but he wasn't close to being a genius either. He was somewhere in the middle, with just enough brains to come up with a half thought-out plan and enough stupidity to go through with it. With all the flaws I had seen in all his plans it was only by dumb luck that they were all still alive.

His thick southern drawl was another thing that I found interesting about him. While I found a southern accent on most people made them sound dumb and unrefined, on him it seemed to fit. His voice was as smooth and rich as black coffee and was quite pleasing to the ear, when he wasn't being condescending and malicious, that is.

I vaguely remember falling asleep last night. I remember being roughly pushed down onto a bag of feed after hobbling down the loft's stairs and blacking out for a bit. But my slumber didn't last long, because soon I was being awoken again by a hard slap to my shoulder. After that I watched the young private… Ulmer? Was it? Leave the barn, before I turned my attention back to Raine and watched him get settled in for the night. The last thing I saw before I drifted back into a world of blissful darkness was Raine's smirking face watching me. Smug Basterd.

I was awoken this morning by a not so gentle kick to my leg. "OW!" I exclaimed as I quickly bolted upright and off the bags I was laying on.

"Rise an' shine, Sleeping Beauty. Time ta start the mornin'," Raine said, looking at me with the same smirking face I fell asleep to last night. I would hate to think that would be the face I would fall asleep to and wake up to every day until I die (in other words, until they killed me).

I watched as Donny called over Raine to where he and the other Lieutenant, Hicox, sat. They had a small exchange as I sat up on the bags and leaned back against the barn wall. I wanted nothing more that to close my eyes and go back to sleep for a few more hours. And, hopefully, the next time I woke up I would find myself in my bed back in Germany. No Swastika carved into my face. No insufferable Basterds bothering me. And no Aldo Raine to smirk contemptuously at me.

Too soon, Raine returned to where I dozed in and out of sleep and slapped my shoulder again, but at least this time he did it lightly. "Get up," he commanded as he backed away to give me room to get up.

I stood up slowly, feeling every ache in my body come alive. My joints popped and my bones creaked with every movement, and my back was screaming at me with pain. Feed bags did not offer much support.

"Come on, hurry it up," said Raine as he grabbed me by my arm and forcibly hauled me to my feet. "I gotta take a leak." And now that he said something about it, so did I.

"Hold on a moment," I protested, angrily, as I yanked my arm out of his grasp. "I'm not quite as young as you, you know!"

He stood there for a moment just staring at me, dumbfounded and a bit shocked. But he quickly recovered and angrily replied, "Well, it seems _you _have forgotten who I am an' where _you_ are. Let me refresh yer memory. Yer MY prisoner!"

I took a step back and watched him closely. I was just waiting for him to reach out and hit me, or something. He was angry; practically seething. And I was prepared to fight him if he tried to hit me. Even with my hands shackled I would fight him. I would lose, there was no doubt in that fact, but I'd be damned if I put up with much more of this from him or any of the other Basterds.

It was I who allowed them to kill Hitler. And I who allowed them all to live when they were all at the movie theater. I know my reputation as The Jew Hunter is not a very pleasant one to them, but it is a lie. I am not a Jew hunter! I am a detective, and yes I admit that some of the people I found just happened to be Jews, but I am not a Jew hunter by trade. I am a detective! And a damn good one at that!

"Fine!" Raine finally yelled. "If ya don't have'ta take a piss, ya can just stay 'ere with Donny and the boys." I cringed at the thought of being alone with his men. If I was left alone with them I'm sure they'd all beat me within an inch of my life. And the only reason they hadn't already was because of their deep loyalty to Raine. And Raine wanted me alive. Sure, Raine may push me around and get on my every nerve, but he's never out-right beat me for the fun of it. But I can see that Donny wants to. Nothing would please him more than beating my brains in with his bat and scalping my head; not necessarily in that order, mind you.

Raine turned away from me and started walking off, and as he did I heard Donny snicker from somewhere behind me. A feeling of trepidation washed over me and I knew I had just made a bad choice. But just when I thought Raine was going to leave me to my fate, he stopped and turned his head around to look back at me. It was a silent, wordless question he was asking me.

"_Are you coming?"_

He was giving me one last chance and I wasn't going to pass it up again. I quickly jogged over to him and followed him out the barn.

After we finished our business, I found myself being dragged around to the other side of the house and to the water spigot.

Raine was kind enough to take the handcuffs off me for bit as he instructed me to wash up. I rubbed at my red wrists where they had been rubbed raw by the cuffs. I watched the young private Utivich wash up in front of me and I rotated my attention from the private who was splashing water onto his face and Raine who was taking off his jacket and rolling up the sleeves to his shirt.

Once Utivich was done he turned to Raine and had a small exchange with him as he dried himself off, but I paid them no mind as I turned on the spigot and cupped my hands under the falling stream of water. After I had caught some water in my hands I splashed it up into my face. It was cold and biting, but it also felt refreshing to my mud and blood caked face. I began to wash away the filth that had accumulated, but stopped when I felt a sharp, burning pain in my forehead. My fingertips, lightly, brushed against the dried blood that had formed over the Swastika carving and I hissed in pain.

Of all the things that the Basterds had done to me or would do to me, the Swastika carving on my forehead was what I hated the most. It was humiliating, dehumanizing, and ugly. I was marked, like cattle going to slaughter or a dog that was owned, but now that I think about it, there was a sort of bitter irony to it. I was like a dog that had been marked by his master. I was even treated like such. I was like Raine's dog. Heck, I couldn't even so much as take a piss without his permission like a dog. How did that saying go? Oh, how the mighty have fallen? Or something of that nature.

I carefully tried to clean around the Swastika as best as I could without causing myself too much pain. My only hope now was that it hadn't gotten infected.

"Let me see." I heard Raine say from behind me. I turned around and glanced at him and finally noticed that the young private was gone and that we were now the only ones at the spigot.

"What?" I asked, confused. What did he want to see? Was that some sort of sexual innuendo or something? And how on God's green earth am I suppose to know what that meant? Typical American to tell you to do something, but not explain what and how to do it. Not that I was going to do it anyways, mind you; especially if it was some sort of sexual innuendo.

"The Swastika on yer forehead," Raine explained, rolling his eyes at me. "Let me see if it's infected 'er not." It was kind of creepy how he seemed to have read my mind.

When I didn't move he walked over to me and roughly gripped my chin and pulled my face closer to his. He started to slowly, but firmly, turn my head to each side and carefully began to inspect the Swastika carving. And all the while he had this that damnable smirk was plastered on his smug face, like he was admiring his handy work. Smug Basterd.

But then he did something that I hadn't expected. He took a towel from off the porch and started gently cleaning out the carving he had made. I flinched and cringed from the pain at first, but he just held my chin tighter and pulled me closer. When I stopped moving he started cleaning the wound again. Soon, his grip on my chin loosened and the pain in my forehead became bearable.

It was odd to say the least. I never figured Raine would even have cared if I got an infection out here and died. In fact, I thought he would be happy if I died out here, that way he wouldn't have to drag me around two countries or more. But what I found even more fascinating than that was how gentle his hands were.

Raine was a man known for his ferocious killing techniques and brutish tendencies, and so was rightfully feared by many Nazis. His hands were large and calloused, what you would have expected the hands of a seasoned soldier's to look like. They were rough and scarred and having your throat trapped in them brought out a primal fear that was almost animalistic in nature. Looking at them and knowing what they felt like when they had a death grip on you, you would never have believed them capable of being so gentle. But as they tenderly gripped my chin and cleaned out my wounds, I found them to be a polar opposite to how Raine usually acted. From how he behaved I did not believe he could actually ever be this gentle. But once again Aldo Raine has proven me wrong. It would seem that the more I learn about Aldo Raine, the more confused I become. The man is an anomaly to me. An enigma just waiting to be solved. And usually I would like a good puzzle to solve, but Aldo Raine was one that seemed to be a permanent puzzle. Even if I had my whole life to study and watch the man I don't believe that I would ever be able to truly figure the man out.

As he continued to clean my wound, he seemed to be concentrating very hard on his task. His brow was furrowed and his lips were drawn into a tight line. And I soon found myself staring, intently, at his lips. This scared me, so I quickly averted my eyes. Why did I stare at his lips like that? It's not as if they were really that fascinating, and yet, I somehow found myself drawn to them. Drawn to this whole man, in fact. There was just something about Raine that intrigued me. His whole persona just lured me in and captivated me, and I now find myself at a loss at what to do.

"Ther' all done. It doesn't look to be infected and shouldn't get infected if ya just keep it clean," said Raine as he tossed the now bloody towel aside and began to wash his hands. Once he was finished he turned back to me and quickly slapped the cuffs back onto my wrists.

"Really, Lieutenant?" I asked, a hint of sarcasm and agitation playing on my tone. "Are these absolutely necessary?"

"Yes." Raine replied curtly, that stupid smirk on his face again. And again I say he is one smug Basterd. "Come on." He grabbed the chain that connected my shacked hands together and started to pull me along, by now I was far beyond caring how he manhandled me.

On our way back to the barn we passed by Stiglitz, who completely ignored us in favor of heading straight for the water spigot. But after he disappeared around the house, Hicox exited the barn and Raine called out to him.

"Hey, Archie," greeted Raine. "Goin' to wash up?"

"Yes, actually," Hicox replied, a charming smile playing at his lips. Hicox struck me as the kind of man who spent most of his life working in espionage. And with a smile like that he probably did very well.

"Well, while yer ther' could ya tell Hugo to hurry it up?" Asked Raine, give me a hard tug, forcing me to move closer to him.

"Yeah, I'll do that."

"Oh, and one more thing. Have ya seen Omar this morning'?"

"Is he not at the spigot with Stiglitz?"

"Naw, haven't seen 'im all morning'."

"Well, me either, but I'll keep an eye out for him."

I quirked an eyebrow as Hicox passed us and Raine dragged me into the barn. Interesting. The other young private was missing?

When we had returned to the barn we noticed that Mrs. Grégoire had set out a plate of bread and cheese with a pitcher of milk next to it. Raine walked us over to the platter and took a slice of cheese from it and sniffed it curiously. "Uh-huh, just what I thought," exclaimed Raine. The other three soldiers, who were previously enjoying their breakfast, quickly stopped their chewing and stared up at their leader apprehensively. And, needless to say, I too was anxious to know what it was that Raine knew. "Goat cheese an' I bet that's goat milk. They must run a goat farm, but it's odd that I don't see any goats." I could see the relief that washed over the others' faces when Raine explained his findings to them.

Raine then sat me on the floor next to him as he sat himself down on a pile of feed. He took two tin cups that were next to the pitcher and filled them up with milk and then handed one to me which I gratefully took. Until then I hadn't realized how thirsty I was, and I finished the whole drink in one go. Then he handed me a slice of bread with a piece of cheese on it. The bread was still warm, which had me assuming that it was homemade bread that Mrs. Grégoire had made fresh just that morning.

I took a bite of, what I suspected would be my only meal of the day, and as I did Stiglitz and Hicox entered the barn, Hicox looking a little uncomfortable and Stiglitz looking a little smug.

"Is that homemade bread?" Asked Hicox, clearing his throat and walking up to Raine.

"I suspect it is. Try it. It's real good," replied Raine, chewing on his own piece of bread and cheese.

"I think that I will do just that," responded Hicox, taking one of the last three slices of bread, and moving aside to let Stiglitz do the same.

And just when I thought that that was the end of the bread, Mrs. Grégoire came into the barn carrying a brand new loaf. "I hope you boys enjoyed my homemade bread," said Mrs. Grégoire as she walked over to the empty bread platter and placed the new loaf on it.

"Yes, M'am. It's very delicious," answered Raine as he stood up to greet her.

"Yes Madam. You are a most exceptional cook," compliment Hicox, using a bit of his British charm.

"Oh, please, Lieutenants. You only say that because you're hungry," replied Mrs. Grégoire, but you could see that the flattery had gotten to her by the tell-tale pink tinge on her cheeks. "Oh, yes. Before I forget. My husband wishes to know what you will do now."

"Um, well…" started Raine, scratching his chin in his usual manner, "I've been thinking' 'bout that, and I promise to get outta yer hair as soon as possible. But first we need to find a way to get out of this country."

"Well," stated Mrs. Grégoire as she smoothed down the wrinkles in her brown skirt, "whatever you need you have only to ask. I'll be in the house."

"Lieutenant," said Hicox, after Mrs. Grégoire had left the barn. "What are we going to do? After operation Kino we were supposed to travel to Rouen, where a radio would contact us with the British embassy and then they would air lift us out of here. But since the Nazis have taken over Rouen I doubt we'll be leaving this country any time soon."

"Hm, it was a bit of a speed bump in our plans, when the Nazis took over Rouen before we killed Hitler, but we'll just have to make do with what we've got."

"Which would be what exactly?" Asked Hicox. "Four American Yanks. A Nazi traitor. An Austrian with a taste for killing Nazis. A British espionage agent. And a Nazi prisoner."

"Perhaps," I interjected Hicox's rant, "the Nazi prisoner could be of some assistance." After everyone went silent and turned to stare at me I continued. "If I remember correctly, there should be a Nazi military camp with an operational radio near Rouen."

"Well, that helps a lot," stated Hicox sarcastically, rolling his eyes at me. "Yes, let's go from one Nazi infested town to another."

I gave the other Lieutenant a sharp glare, but said nothing to him, just continued talking. "This town is not well known. The Führer had camps like these placed, secretly, all over France in case he needed to flee and get to a safe place. So, this camp I was talking about would not be well known or have a lot of security. And with me helping you, you could easily get in."

It was quiet for a long while, but Raine, as usual, was the first to break the silence. "Yer sure?" Was all he asked.

"Positive."

"Yes, well," said Hicox, "you can be as sure as you like about the radio being there, but I'm not so sure that we can trust you not to lead us into a trap."

"He has a point, Landa," responded Raine. "What guarantee can you give us that you won't lead us to our deaths?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you," I said, exasperated, "I'm already your captive, am I not?" I emphasized my point by lifting my shackled hands up for them to see.

"Exactly why I think that you'd turn on us the first chance you got," replied Hicox, haughtily.

Hicox and I glared each other down for what felt like an eternity, and while we were doing that Raine sat, pensively, next to me.

"Alright," stated Raine as he finished his thought and was ready to vocalize them. "Seeing as we 'ave no other options at the time. It seems the ex-Colonel Landa may be our only way out of this Hell hole."

I knew they'd see it my way. I mean, really they had no other choice.

"Alright, Landa," he said, looking me straight in the eye, "yer gonna take me to this place. Help me get inside and get to the radio, and then help me get back out alive again. Do this and I'll put in a good word for ya. Deal?"

His men looked completely stunned. They looked at him like he had gone completely insane. And I didn't blame them. It is stupid to put so much blind faith in a man considered to be your enemy. So then, why was he trusting me so freely?

"Yes," I finally answered, softly, never once taking my eyes off his. They were the most captivating shade of blue I had ever seen. And if I was any less a man, I'd even go so far as to say that they were beautiful.

"Good, then all that's left is for us, Basterds, to work out all the little details in between," said Raine, joyfully, finally breaking eye contact with me and standing up to look Hicox in the eye. "And why we do that…" he slowly turned his gaze back toward me and where I sat on the floor. "Private Utivich can take watch outside with you." And once again there was that smirk I hated so much on his face. He knew something I didn't, and he was rubbing that fact in my face.

**A/N: Finally! It's done! Hope you all enjoyed it! It may be awhile before I post the next chapter. I have a lot of insurance guys wanting to talk to me about the fire. But the sad thing is that they know about as much as I do at this point, and they weren't even here when it happened *sigh*. Also, I'm writing another fic for the movie 3:10 to Yuma. It's going to be Ben Wade/Dan Evans slash. So if ya like that pairing check out my profile till I have it up. I'm still writing it right now.**

**Spot any grammar mistakes let me know.**

**Next Chapter - Pfc. Smithson Utivich's Notes Part One. Utivich/Donny Slash! Woot! Some Utivich Landa… bonding? They become sort of friends. Utivich is confused about his relationship with Donny. Utivich thinks their relationship is only about sex. Donny thinks otherwise, but has a hard time conveying his feelings to Utivich, and every time he tries, it usually ends up coming out wrong. And thus causes Utivich to get upset, which in turn causes Donny to get upset. There's a lot of yelling and UST. Can they resolve this? Read the next chapter to find out! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: When writing fan fiction one must leave the realm of probability and enter into the realm of possibilities. That's about all I have to say.**

**Warnings: SLASH! Lots and lots of sexy SLASH! This story is rated M for Mature for a reason.**

**Special thank to ****shoeychocolatXD ****for the review! And I'm glad you liked my slash interpretations of the Basterds better than the straight ones. : ) It also makes me very happy that it was my story that, as you put it, " …corrupted your basterd ideals and drew you into the slash fandom of the basterds." And may I just say on behalf of the whole IB slash community, "Welcome to the IB slash fandom. Pull up a chair, sit back, and enjoy the slash."**

**PS - I hope this 'longer than normal' chapter makes up for the fact that I won't be able to upload future chapters very quickly.**

Pfc. Smithson Utivich's Notes Part One

It happened about… Hm, well, I don't even know how long it's been. It's hard to keep track of stuff like that out here. Time and distance. I know it's important that you do, and I do my best to try, but after awhile everything seems to just blend together. But back to what I was saying before.

It had to have happened about, maybe, a month or two before the success of operation Kino. The long nights get lonely out here and with only your hand and the cold, hard ground to comfort you, the nights seem even longer.

At the beginning of operation Kino, when I first joined the Basterds, Donny and I became fast friends. We spent most of our free time together, just paling around. And then one night as we sat hunched together to stave off the cold, our backs against a tree, keeping watch for any Nazi scum that may have come creeping around, Donny leaned in a little closer to me and spoke a little softer. Though these things were subtle, the mood shifted so quickly that I could have sworn to feeling the earth move beneath me. Suddenly, I felt very hot and any smart remarks I could have made escaped me. All I could seem to focus on was that strong arm pressed flush against me and how big he truly was. Now, I could _really _understand why they called him the Bear Jew.

He whispered something, or maybe he didn't, I can't remember, all I know was in the next second he had my back pushed up against that tree and his mouth was viciously trying to suck my lips off. I shifted to try and give him better access, but the sitting position I was in made it very hard to do, especially when Donny refused to let up even for a second. I wasn't able to move, but he seemed completely fine with squatting down in front of me and leaning all his weight onto me.

I tried to push him off me for a second, but to no avail. I only caused him to push down harder on me. I got the message. He wanted me to stay put, but I'd be damned if I just laid there and took it like some whore.

Doing a neat, little leg trick I learned I was able to upset his balance and throw him off me. He hit the ground with a soft thud and I heard the air escape him. Using his momentary confusion, I tackled him and it was my turn to ravish his mouth. It was a good feeling to see him confused, stunned, and aroused.

He gripped my shoulders and I knew he was going to try and flip us again, so I reached down and palmed him through his pants. This had the desired effect and he tensed up and stilled. He quickly jerked his head to the side and broke our intense kiss.

"Jeez, Smithson," panted Donny, turning to look at me again. "A little feisty, aren't we?"

"I don't take stuff lying down," I told him, squeezing his cock to get my point across. A moan escaped his lips as his eyes turned feral and he stared intensely up at me. I don't think I had ever seen him look so intense; so terrifying. It had me wavering.

"You will for me," he growled out.

He moved quicker than I had ever seen him before as he flipped us and pinned my arms down to my sides. He settled his weight on my legs, effectively pinning them. I twisted and bucked to try and throw him off me, but he just remained firm and held me down until I ran out of energy. When he wanted something, he wasn't shy about getting it.

I lay under him panting, but was pleased to see that he too was a bit winded. It's good to know that even though I couldn't throw him off me, I still put up a good challenge. He slowly moved my pinned arms from my sides to above my head before he pinned them both down using only one of his large, powerful hands.

I looked up at him, a challenge in my eyes as he smirked down at me. "You know Utiv." He said lazily as he leaned down and pressed his lips close to my ear. So close, in fact, I could feel them move when he spoke. "I like it when you put up a fight."

I groaned in pleasure. I don't know why that turned me on so much; it just did. I lifted my hips and rubbed gently against his quickly rising cock. Glad to know I wasn't the only one getting worked up.

He groaned as I continued to grind against him and his lips soon found my neck. I leaned my head back and allowed him unrestricted access to the tender flesh. I felt his free hand slip under my shirt and slowly creep its way up my body, teasing the flesh there as it went. I really wished he'd let go of my hands. I was beginning to believe that this was a new form of slowly torture. To be touched, but to never touch. Oh, he was driving me insane. I groaned again, this time very loudly.

He chuckled at me as he pulled away from my neck and looked me in the eyes. "Why Utiv. Are you growing impatient? Haven't you ever heard that good things come to those who wait?" He asked sarcastically, that damnable smirk of his widening.

"Shut up," I muttered as I leaned up and caught his lips once more.

I was floating on cloud nine. So intoxicated by Donny's mouth that I didn't notice that someone was approaching us until it was too late.

A cough broke our make-out session as Donny pulled away from me like he had been burned, and I turned to see who had walked in on us. I prayed it wasn't Raine. Thankfully, God took pity on me and it wasn't Raine. It was Wicki, and he seemed just as embarrassed by the whole situation as we were.

"Raine," he coughed, awkwardly, "wanted me to check on you two. See if you both were doing fine. And now that I see you're doing more than fine I'll be on my way."

"Yep. Yep," said Donny just as awkwardly as he tried to scramble off of me. "Uhhhh, does he need us for anything?"

"No. He just wanted me to check on you," answered Wicki as he turned away from us and started walking off.

"I think," I began, feeling a blush rise up my neck and to my face. "Maybe we should start heading back to camp. I don't think there are any Nazis out here who are going to bother us."

"Yeah, yeah," replied Donny, a blush covering his own face.

So, that's how everything started. We've never, you know, had sex; never had the time. But any chances we get, we usually take advantage of it, because out here you never know when your last day will be.

So, several months and one successful mission later and I find myself in a barn, somewhere in the French countryside, happily chowing down on breakfast. When Lieutenant Raine came marching in with his new _lapdog _in tow. I was enjoying my breakfast too, until Raine took a piece of cheese and started sniffing it, suspiciously. Then I got nervous.

He looked very serious as he stared at it, and his expression had me slowing down the pace at which I was chewing.

"Uh-huh, just what I thought," proclaimed Raine, and I swear we all stopped chewing at the same time. "Goat cheese an' I bet that's goat milk. They must run a goat farm, but it's odd that I don't see any goats."

I swallowed hard and let my shoulders relax again. For a moment there, Raine had us all worrying that that would've been our last meal. After that we all, happily, went back to finishing our breakfast. Only Donny seemed to still be a little peeved at the scare Raine had given us. Thankfully, though, Raine was too busy caring for his _lapdog _to notice the evil glare Donny sent his way.

Soon, Stiglitz and Hicox returned from washing up and joined us for breakfast. Something was up with them two; I just don't know what. There always seems to be a tense air around them. And then this morning when Hicox had asked me if I thought Stiglitz was acting strange lately. I didn't at the time, but now that he said something and I paid more attention, I would have to say that they both had been acting strange since that bar incident with that Major. But that's something to dwell on another time.

After breakfast and a little planning, I was sent to keep watch with Landa. Actually, I wasn't so much as sent to keep watch _with _him, as I was to keep watch _of _him. Basically, I got volunteered for babysitting duty.

I stood at the side of the barn, watching the gravel road that led to the house. Occasionally, I would glance over to Landa and see how he was doing. He was sitting, maybe two or three feet away from me, his back leaning against the barn wall and in his shackled hands he held a bloodied handkerchief, that the night before he had used to stop the bleeding of the Swastika. Now it was just a bloody messy of a rag and unusable. So, with a tired sigh he flung the useless rag down and leaned his head back against the wall.

I decided to try and be nice to him, even though he was a lower than dirt, piece of, Jew killing, crap. The lieutenant had taken a liking to him, so maybe I should get to know him a bit.

"You know," I said, trying to start a conversation, "you should really get that thing stitched up or something."

He looked at me like I was some kind of abstract painting that you had to squint your eyes at to see.

Jeez, I mean, I was only trying to be nice.

"And how exactly should I do that?" He asked dully. "Unless you have a first aid kit hidden on your person somewhere I don't think that is even an option."

I was about to quip something nasty at him, but decided to hold my tongue. He was partially right, after all. I didn't have any medical supplies on me. "Well, we could see if Mrs. Grégoire has any medical supplies."

"You would do that for me?" He asked.

"Yeah, sure" I replied, walking over to where he sat.

"Why?" He asked, sounding honestly confused.

"Because you need it?" Was 'just cause' not a good enough answer anymore?

"No, no. What I meant was why are you being so nice to me, when everyone else would love nothing more than to see me tortured and killed?"

"Well, I don't think Lieutenant Raine wants to see you killed. Tortured, maybe, but killed, I don't think so." Not now, at least. Raine has seemed to grow attached to the ex-Nazi Colonel in the short time he's been with us.

"Perhaps," he said, thoughtfully. "But that doesn't explain why you don't want me dead."

"Now, I didn't say that. What I said was, the only person that didn't, probably, want to see you dead was Raine."

"I see," he replied with a quick nod of his head. "So, you are only being nice to me to be to… How would you Americans put it? Up to kiss the boss?"

What he said had me sputtering (and probably blushing) and I turned to look at him. I knew he had said the phrase wrong and I knew what he meant, but it still was a little surprising to hear so suddenly.

"Urm… What you meant to say was, 'kiss up to the boss'." I corrected.

"Well, that does make more sense, I suppose."

"Alright," I said grabbing him by the shoulder and hoisting him up. "Get up. We're going to see if Mrs. Grégoire has something to patch your forehead up with."

We walked up to the house and I knocked on the front door, tersely. Mrs. Grégoire, herself, answered the door.

"Yes, can I help you with something?" She asked sweetly.

"Yes, maybe," I answered. "Do you have anything we could use to bandage up his forehead with?" I threw my thumb in Landa's general direction behind me.

She pushed open the door she was standing behind and walked up to Landa. She looked very closely at the carving, then said, "It will need stitches to help keep it from getting infected and to help it heal properly. I could stitch it up. I have everything that is needed."

"That would be great," I exclaimed, happily.

"Good. Then please come inside."

We followed her into her small kitchen where she sat Landa down on a small wooden stool. She quickly called for someone in French and then went to her pantry and pulled out a small tin box. I heard soft footsteps coming from down the hall as Mrs. Grégoire sat the tin box on the table in front of Landa and in the next second the French, Jewish daughter of their friend was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

A small exchange in French was had between Mrs. Grégoire and the girl before she went about gathering some other stuff. I tried to stay as much out of the way as possible, but that was a little easier said than done, especially in such a small kitchen. The Jewish daughter milled about the kitchen like a busy honey bee, and I felt even more in the way, so I just pressed my back flush against the door and hoped no one needed to go outside.

"Please face me," I heard Mrs. Grégoire command Landa as she took out a small bottle from the tin box and poured some of its contents onto a towel.

It looked like rubbing alcohol, and from the way Landa grimaced in pain when she rubbed his cut with it, made me think that I was right. I snickered at Landa's pain and couldn't help but feel a little self-satisfied over the fact.

"You have kept the wound surprisingly clean," commented Mrs. Grégoire, "it doesn't appear to be infected."

Her remark reminded me of the little scene I saw between Landa and Raine earlier that morning.

I had just finished up washing when Raine and Landa appeared behind me. I cheerfully greeted Raine as Landa washed up and then started on my way back to the barn. But on my way there, I stopped and turned to see that Lieutenant Raine had Landa's chin in a tight grip and was meticulously cleaning out the Swastika.

It was then that a bunch of little things between the two of them began to make a lot of sense. Like how protective (and possessive) Raine was of Landa. Or how intensely Landa stared at Raine while he helped clean his Swastika.

Now, I'm no rocket scientist, but I don't have to be to see that Raine has some strong feelings for Landa, and Landa may, in return, have some feelings for him. But there in lies the question. What kind of feelings? Kinship? Maybe. Hatred? Just a bit. Love? Possibly. But I'm getting way too deep into this sentimental crap. I see no problem with getting your pleasure from another man, (especially out here) but love is a completely different story.

Love is something reserved for nice little boys and girls who never have to pick up a gun to be safe. Who get married in a small church, surrounded by close friends and family. Then later move into a little house together surrounded by a white, picket fence, have two children, a dog and grow old together. That is what love is. Not heated encounters in the dead of night and praying that no one sees you.

"This is going to hurt," remarked Mrs. Grégoire to Landa, her voice pulling me out of my musings. She grabbed Landa's head and without another word started stitching. Landa was caught off guard and let out a yelp of pain before quieting back down again.

About this time I noticed that the Jewish daughter was watching me, silently, from across the room. So, being nice, I gave her a warm and friendly smile. Or, at least, I thought it was a warm and friendly smile, but if I had to guess from the way she jumped and went to cleaning the stovetop, I'd say she thought I was some sort of mutated monster. I couldn't help feeling slightly dejected at that.

I let out a soft sigh and leaned back against the door, suddenly feeling very tired. Something about the cozy, picturesque scene of a small farm in the countryside, away from the hustle and bustle of the big city, was comforting and slowly lulling me into a feeling of security. That was always a bad thing for a man in my position. Falling asleep on the job, couldn't just mean the death of me, but also my comrades.

I heard a soft click, which confused me for a second, and that was all the time I had to think on the matter before I started falling backwards. I reached out to grab hold of something (anything) but there was nothing within reach. And I remember angrily thinking, "Doesn't anyone knock anymore!" As I plummeted toward the ground.

I braced myself for the hard impact of when my back met floor, but was (pleasantly) surprised when instead of cold, hard ground I felt soft, warm flesh. I felt strong arms wrap firmly around me and hold me up.

"Whoa, sorry Utiv." Said the person holding me. "Didn't know you were leaning against the door."

I looked up and saw Donny smirking down at me. "Yeah right, you jerk," I quipped, hoisting myself up and out of his grip. "You probably knew I was there and did that on purpose."

"No," he laughed.

"Then you have really bad manners," I replied. "You should knock before entering someone else's house."

"Sorry," he said to me before turning to Mrs. Grégoire, "I am sorry Mrs. Grégoire."

"That's alright," replied Mrs. Grégoire as she finished sewing up Landa's forehead. "Boys will be boys." She was much kinder than she had to be to us.

"Raine wants to see you," Donny said turning his attention back to me. "Right now."

"Okay, but Landa is still getting patched up," I replied.

"I only need to get some gauze and wrap up his head, and then he'll be done," cut in Mrs. Grégoire, looking between Donny and me.

"You can go ahead," stated Donny, an evil smirk playing on his lips as he stared at Landa. I could see Landa visibly stiffen and go a bit pale. I felt for him. Donny could be intense when he wanted to be. "I'll watch him."

"Okay," I drawled out the word. Then as I turned to leave, I nudged Donny's arm to get his attention. He turned and looked at me and I gave him a look that clearly said for him not to do anything to Landa while I was gone. Raine would be pissed if Donny went berserk on Landa and ended up beating his brains in.

Back in the barn, Hicox and Raine were both arguing about something while looking over a map.

"Lieutenant Raine," I interjected, walking up to my commanding officers. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Raine replied, looking up from the map spread out in front of him and Hicox. "Where's Donny and Landa?"

"Back at the house. Danny is watching Landa while Mrs. Grégoire stitches up his forehead," I calmly answered. "I thought it prudent to get his Swastika patched up so that he wouldn't get an infection. It would be hard to get him medical help out here if he did."

"Ah, okay," was all he said on the matter before continuing with the other business. "Our plan is simple. Get out of this death trap of a country and into the UK as soon as possible."

"That sounds a lot easier said than done." I commented. "So, how do we do that?"

"Landa says he'll take me to a radio we can use, but Hicox had a point when he said we couldn't trust 'im far as we could throw 'im. So, only myself, Landa, an' Omar are goin'. You and everyone else will hide in the nearby town, and using Hicox's security and clearance codes I'll get in touch with someone from the British embassy and get them to airlift us outta here."

"Why Omar?" Was the first thing out of my mouth. I had this sour feeling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Omar going with Raine and Landa. And I actually found myself wanting to go instead.

"Because I need someone stealthy and a good tracker to watch my back," answered Raine.

"I'm stealthy and a good tracker. Take me instead." I don't know what came over me, but I suddenly felt like a child whose parent was paying more attention to my brother than me. I kind of felt jealous.

"You wanna go that badly, huh?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied eagerly.

"Alright then, I guess that settles it. After I get the directions from Landa an' a few necessities, we'll leave at first light." I nodded and asked what I needed to do. "Stiglitz went into town to get supplies, so when he gets back grab a bag and fill it up with what you'll need."

And just as I was about to ask a few more questions, Donny came ambling in with a very disgruntled looking Landa tagging along behind him.

"So, what'd I miss," asked Donny as he merrily shoved Landa down by Raine.

"Nothing much," grunted Raine as he looked over Landa and noticed the white bandages wrapped around his forehead. You could clearly tell that Landa felt uncomfortable under Raine's scrutiny and he shifted uneasily. "Just that Utivich, here, is switching places with Omar."

And in a split second, Donny's facial expression changed from one of being cocky and pleased to one of shock and confusion.

"What?" He asked, dumbfounded.

"I said," answered Raine, his tone taking on a more annoyed pitch. "Utivich is switching places with Omar for the mission to get the radio."

"That's what I thought you said," mumbled Donny as he turned and left the barn the way he had come in.

"Now what the hell is wrong with him?"

"I don't know," I replied softly as I watched Donny leave.

"Utivich would you please go see what has him so upset?" Asked Raine, sounding even more annoyed than before.

"Yeah, sure," I answered, body moving before I even thought about what to do.

"I swear you'd think I was the head of some freakin' girls' scout by the way everyone's been acting lately," I remember hearing Raine mutter. He was talking about Donny and Omar.

Omar had only recently returned from, only God knows where, and he had been quiet and away from everyone since. Raine had said that he was on his period, apparently.

When I first exited the barn and did not immediately see Donny, I rushed around the corner of the barn and toward the house. But paused in my jogging just as I came around the corner and spotted Donny talking to Mrs. Grégoire and the young Jewish daughter. And he was happy and laughing.

Mrs. Grégoire seemed to be translating for Donny and the girl, and in the next minute they were all laughing. I felt a quick pain in my chest, but before I could identify it, it was gone.

The young girl stood, staring wide-eyed and adoring up at Donny as he began to tell her something and Mrs. Grégoire translated. And, if it were even possible, the girl's smile got even wider when Mrs. Grégoire had told her what Donny had said.

I had never felt such a strange combination of sadness, jealousy, and confusion. I was sad because I had not been the one to make Donny smile. Jealous because the girl had. And confused as to why I felt the two previous emotions. I mean, it's not like Donny and I are… lovers or anything. We've just, you know, fooled around some times, to relieve tension and help us relax. In fact we've never actually _did it_, if you know what I mean.

The girl must have said something funny because in the next minute they all started laughing again, and my stomach churned, unpleasantly. Donny's deep baritone laugh washed over me in rolling waves and it sent a shiver up my spine, because the last time I had heard that laughter was when his lips crept their way down my body and right before he swallowed me whole.

I swallowed hard at the memory and forcibly willed it away before my imagination could get me into trouble. I looked back over at the three of them, at the way the girl seemed to worship Donny with her eyes, and at the way Donny smiled back at her, and I dolefully thought that this was what love was. Silent admiration. Happiness from just talking to someone. And a lovely, innocent woman. Those were all the things that Donny deserved. So, I silently wished him the best of luck and turned around to head back to the barn.

But about half way there I heard someone running up behind me. "Utivich, wait!" I heard someone call. I turned around to see Donny sprinting up to me.

"Donny," I said, a bit surprised. I was sure from the way he was looking at that girl, that not even a Nazi raid could pull him away from her.

"I saw you leaving and was wondering what you needed," said Donny, stopping to stand in front of me.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to see if you were okay. You seemed mad about something earlier. But now I see you are busy with other things…" I said with a suggestive smile. "And you probably want to get back to her, so I'll just leave."

I turned to leave again, but Donny reached out and grabbed me by my upper arm and turned me back around to face him. "Claire?" He asked before continuing. "You saw me talking to her, and what…? That automatically means I'm going to f*ck her?" I sensed Donny's anger rising, and if there was one thing Donny had little control over it was his temper.

So, I calmly said, "Yeah, that's kinda what I thought. I mean, she's really hot."

"So! I'm not some sex-crazed maniac! I have control you know!" He was practically screaming now.

"Calm down. There's no need to get so worked up."

"Oh, there isn't? So, having your friend think that you're a serial rapist is nothing!"

"Wait one second! I never said that!" I was getting aggravated with him now. Why did he always have to take everything I say and twist it?

"But you implied it!"

I felt my own anger rising. He could be such a selfish brute at times that it made it hard to believe he could be a selfless hero at others. A selfless, moronic, hero, that is.

"Utivich! Donny!" Called Raine from inside the barn, effectively stopping Donny from saying whatever he was about to. "Get your butts in here! Hugo just came back with supplies!"

Donny's intense expression lightened for a minute before he went back to scolding expression. Like an idea had just struck him. "C'mon Utiv. I need to talk to Lieutenant Raine," he told me before he stormed off past me, practically leaving me in his dust.

"Lieutenant Raine," said Donny, very formally as he walked up to Raine in the barn. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure. 'Bout what?" Asked Raine, not looking up from the pack he was stuffing with supplies. Hugo was sitting next to him, handing things to him. Hicox was off to the side and talking (interrogating) to the newly bandaged Landa. Omar was, not so surprisingly, absent from the barn (must have disappeared again after I left to check on Donny). And Wicki sat in the far corner by himself, cleaning his pistol.

"About your plan to get that radio," answered Donny.

"What about it? I thought I made everything clear already?" Raine stopped packing and looked up at Donny.

"I want to go with you too," stated Donny, firmly.

"Donny listen…" started Raine, but he never got to finish before Donny cut him off.

"Lieutenant Raine. I want to go." Donny stared the Lieutenant down. No fear of repercussions in his eyes. No uncertainty. Nothing. Just pure conviction. "You know that I would be better suited out there with you guys. Stiglitz and them are more than capable of handling themselves here, but you could use me out there."

"If that's what you really want," sighed Raine. "Fine, you can go. Go grab a pack."

Donny looked triumphant as he went to get his bag. I was just a bit confused. He had never shown any interest in going with Raine and Landa when Omar was. Why, all the sudden, when I was going instead did he want to go too? Did he think that I needed looking after? Sure, I may be the youngest and smallest of the Basterds, but I am more than capable of taking care of myself. I'm not dead yet am I? If he thinks that I'm some sort of helpless idiot, he better think again. And I'm going to prove to him that I am not.

**A/N: Drama, drama, drama. Boys just calm down. No need to act like a bunch of PMSing chicks.**

**Okay, so I hope you liked this chapter. Spot any grammar mistakes give me a shout and let me know.**

**Next Chapter - Sgt. Donny Donowits' Notes Part One - You get to see what he was thinking. So, I hope ya'll are still tagging along.**

**Read and review, because I made a vow to myself that so long as I still have one person out there reading my story I would still write, if only for them and me.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: It took me awhile to get this out. I kept hitting a writer's block, and the playful plot bunnies in my head demanded that I write **_**Pianist **_**slash fics.**

**Warnings: SLASH, duuuuhhhh.**

**Special thanks to everyone who is still following along. : )**

Sgt. Donny Donowits' Notes Part One

I stomped out of the barn, a bit angry and a bit confused. I was angry that Raine was sending Utivich into the danger zone, when it was originally supposed to be Omar. What was he thinking? Utivich wasn't experienced enough to handle a situation like this. Sure, he had come a long way from the short, wide-eyed Private he was at the beginning of operation Kino; he was tougher now, thicker skinned, with sharper instincts. But he still needed someone there to watch his back, like I had been doing this whole time.

As I irritably rounded the corner of the barn, I practically ran over Mrs. Grgoire and the young, Jewish girl. "Oh, please excuse me," I said, remembering my manners.

"That is alright," replied Mrs. Grgoire, then she looked up at me curiously. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name."

"Donny Donowits, ma'am," I replied.

"Well, Donny, my name is Marie Grgoire and this young lady here is Claire," said Mrs. Grgoire, motioning to the brunette standing next to her.

Claire was a short, brunette, with big brown eyes and soft, voluptuous curves. She looked up at me and blushed a deep red before returning her gaze to the ground. She mumbled something in French, and a moment later Mrs. Grgoire translated.

"She says," chuckled Mrs. Grgoire, "that it's very nice to meet you."

"Well, would you please tell her that it is also very nice to meet her," I re-laid to Mrs. Grgoire before she turned to Claire and spoke a few words to her in French. A second later Claire was speaking rapid fire French to her, Claire's face turning scarlet red as she spoke and her eyes were, pointedly, not looking at either of us.

Mrs. Grgoire laughed, goodheartedly, causing Claire to shuffle her feet and stare down, intently, at them. "She says," explained Mrs. Grgoire, turning back toward me, "that she admires how strong you are." Mrs. Grgoire paused and leaned closer to me like she was about to tell me a secret. "And she thinks that you're quite handsome. But don't tell her I told you that."

I beamed at the compliment and told Mrs. Grgoire to tell Claire that I thought she was a very pretty girl. The girl seemed happy by my compliment as she asked Mrs. Grgoire something that had Mrs. Grgoire looking puzzled at her.

"She is curious," started Mrs. Grgoire, "as to how many Nazis you, personally, have killed." I shifted uncomfortable under the two women's curious stares. I was feeling both proud and embarrassed that she had asked that.

"Well, I don't know the exact number," I conceded, honestly. "But it would have to be somewhere in the hundreds." Mrs. Grgoire looked shocked and I felt the need to lighten the mood. "But don't worry. I heard when all Nazis die they go to Nazi heaven. Somewhere nice and hot. In fact, some people would even say it's on fire." Mrs. Grgoire laughed. "And you know the best part? There are no Jews there."

Mrs. Grgoire turned to Claire, still laughing, and told her what I had said. I saw her smile widen as she laughed along with Mrs. Grgoire.

Claire was quite the beautiful girl. Short, brown hair with big brown eyes that looked up at me like I was some sort of superhero. She was the type of girl that the boys back home would've fought over. But every time I looked at her soft, round face I couldn't help but see shining, blue eyes that held a spark of mischief to them. And I did so love those eyes.

I was so caught up in my own musings that I had missed whatever Mrs. Grgoire was translating. But when she started laughing so did I. It was a fake laugh, of course, since I had no idea what she had said, but I didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings so I played along.

As I laughed I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned and looked, I saw Utivich walking away around the corner. I quickly turned back to the girls, gave them my apologies, and left.

I jogged my way up to him, almost running into him as I rounded the corner that only moments before he had disappeared behind.

"Utivich, wait!" I yelled. He stopped and turned around. I ran up and stood next to him.

"Donny," he said, sounding surprised.

"I saw you leaving and was wondering what you needed," I explained.

"Nothing much. I just wanted to see if you were okay. You seemed mad about something earlier. But now I see you are busy with other things…" A very lewd smile came over his face for a minute before it was gone again. "And you probably want to get back to her, so I'll just leave."

He thought that I was flirting with Claire! Sure, she's hot, but she's not my type! He should know I like strong women. I like a woman who pushes back when I push. A woman who likes to play a little rough and is anything but fragile.

He turned to leave again, but I grabbed his arm and turned him back to face me. "Claire?" I asked. "You saw me talking to her, and what…? That automatically means I'm going to f*ck her?"

"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought. I mean, she's really hot."

"So! I'm not some sex-crazed maniac! I have control you know!" I was on the verge of screaming in anger now.

"Calm down. There's no need to get so worked up."

"Oh, there isn't?" I asked with bitter sarcasm. "So, having your friend think that you're a serial rapist is nothing!"

"Wait one second! I never said that!"

"But you implied it!"

Utivich looked angry and indignant and that's when I realized that I may have gone a little overboard. But I can't help it! I just get so frustrated whenever I try to sort out my feelings for him, and in the end I usually lash out at him in aggravation. It seems like every time I begin to understand one emotion he does something else and makes me feel a whole new set of emotions.

I suddenly felt the need to prove myself, but to him or myself I wasn't sure. All I knew was that I hated when he looked at me that way; angry and hating me. I would do just about anything to make him understand how I truly felt about him. But I'm no good at all with this sentimental, emotional crap that people in relationships should be good at. Crap! Now we're in a relationship! I don't even know anymore.

I feel hopeless. I want to tell him how I feel about him, but I'm not some love-sick poet out to write the next Romeo and Juliet. I'm just a guy.

I opened my mouth to say something, but was cut short by Raine calling us back into the barn. I was about to curse the man into the next century, when I was struck with an idea.

"C'mon Utiv. I need to talk to Lieutenant Raine," I informed Utivich as I walked past him and made a bee-line straight for the barn.

"Lieutenant Raine," I said as I marched into the barn. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure. What about?" Raine asked as he continued to pack his bag with supplies.

I quickly explained that I too wanted to go with him and Utivich to get the radio. Raine didn't look too pleased at first, but he wasn't outright fuming either. I took that as a good sign. After a short awhile he finally agreed to let me go.

I won't lie, I felt triumphant. I know that Utivich was probably pissed at me for treating him like a helpless kid, but this was the only way I knew how to convey my feelings to him. By protecting him.

Nighttime approached faster than ever before and the bitter chill of the night was nothing compared to the cold shoulder Utivich seemed to be giving me.

Raine was giving everybody watch shifts and once again going over the plans for in the morning and so on. I was, I am ashamed to say, not paying attention to a single word that came out of his southern mouth. I was much too busy watching Utivich practically seethe off to the side.

"Utivich," I said walking over to the shorter man, once Raine had finished talking.

"Do you have everything?" He quickly asked, his voice a lot less biting than I thought it would be.

"Yeah, but I wanted to talk to you-"

"If you have everything and you paid attention to Lieutenant Raine, then there should be nothing we need to talk about," replied Utivich, putting emphasis on the _paid attention to Raine_ part. He knew me well enough to know that I hadn't. And I knew him well enough to know that he knew. I also knew when to leave well enough alone. There would be plenty of time later to talk with Utivich, but for now I'll just let him cool down a bit.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." It was going to be a long, cold night.

Sure enough, the night seemed twice as long and twice as cold as the night before. And all throughout the night, my mind worked nonstop until sleep wasn't even an option anymore. Scenarios played over and over in my head, each different from the last and each showing me possible ways to voice my feelings. And possible outcomes. Why was this so hard? Why can't I just say how I feel and that be it? What I feel is not complicated. Well, it sort of is, but, I mean… Crap. This is hard.

Words really aren't my strong suit. That's why I started this journal. I figured the more I wrote, the more I would improve on my writing skills. Now it only seems to just be causing me more distress.

The morning couldn't come soon enough for me and after a quick breakfast, and Raine once again going over the battle plan, we were off. Utivich, Landa, Raine and I heading one way, the others heading the other.

"So were to Kraut?" I asked Landa, mockingly, as I walked up next to him and Raine.

"Roune, on the edge of the Seine River," explained Landa. "If I remember correctly there should be a Nazi military base stationed near there for the time being. But whether it's still there or not is debatable."

"You think that they'd have moved all that stuff out so quickly?" Asked Raine. "Hitler's death would be a big thing, but still, it would take some time for word to travel."

"I agree," replied Landa. "So there are two problems, one being that they have heard of Hitler's death and have already moved out all the equipment or they haven't yet and are still locked down tight."

"I see. So what yer saying is that we're screwed both ways."

"Not necessarily. I am hoping that they have heard of Hitler's death and that in their haste to leave the country, they left most of the heavy equipment behind, realizing that it would only slow them down."

Raine scratched at his chin, a sign that he was in deep thought. It was one of his many quirks. "I see what yer saying," replied Raine, and I was also starting to see what Landa was getting at. Maybe the Nazi sh*t head wasn't as useless as I had originally thought.

As Landa and Raine continued to talk about battle strategies and make future plans, I slowed down my pace to walk next to Utivich who was straggling along behind us. He didn't make eye contact with me as I walked up next to him and I didn't make eye contact with him either, I just continued to stare at Landa and Raine's backs as they continued to talk, adamantly, about one thing or another. But once I was sure that the two men ahead of us were in a deep enough conversation that they wouldn't over hear what we were saying, I spoke to Utivich.

"Listen Utiv." I started, not daring to look over at him, instead I kept my eyes firmly fixed ahead of me. "I know you're mad at me, and I think I know why too. But you might as well get over it. Because, no matter how many times you say that you can take care of yourself, I'm not going to leave you." I turned to look at him and was surprised to see that he was looking right back at me. "Because I want to protect you. Because…" I faltered. I just had to say it, but couldn't. Why? "Because- I care about you."

The shocked expression that came over his face had my own face turning red from embarrassment. Geez, was it so hard to believe that I might actually care for him? Well, if that's how he thinks then I'll prove to him, not with words, but by actions how much I care about him. Besides, I was always better at action then with words.

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to write, but as previously stated those darn plot bunnies caught me right when I hit a writer's block. I hate those things.**

**Thanks for your patience if anyone's still tagging along. Sorry for the short chapter, but like Stiglitz, I believe Donny is more of a man of action than a philosopher. So, expect short chapters with both Donny and Stiglitz.**

**Next Chapter - Pfc. Omar Ulmer's Notes Part One**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This one is a little bit fluffy. I can't help it. I believe Wicki and Omar's relationship would be more... Is sensual the word I'm looking for? Oh well, anyways, I think there would be a lot of comforting done between the two. Also, you can't deny, that that would be cute.**

**I just want to thank every one who faved and story alerted this story and is still following me along patiently. Thank you so much. **

Pfc. Omar Ulmer's Note's Part One

As Lieutenant Raine, Landa, Donny, and Utivich headed to some military camp on the edge of the Seine River near Rouen, Lieutenant Hicox and the rest of us headed for a small town near Chantilly, called Lioré. Once there we would all be hidden by an ally of ours at his abandoned warehouse.

Finally, it seemed that we might be going home, but I know better than to get my hopes up too high. I'm just thankful to be alive, even if I am a bit confused.

It has been two days since Wicki (or do I call him Wilhelm now?) and I made-out and I've had some time to think since then. And believe me; I've been thinking a lot. I'm not so sure about this whole thing. This situation I've gotten myself in, that is.

I liked what he did to me- a lot -and I like him, but are my sexual feelings for him just a physical reaction to not getting laid in a long time or am I gay? Wicki's been trying to convince me that he likes me like a man who likes a woman he wants to marry does, but I'm not so sure. What if we start this (I'm loath to call it a relationship, but no other words seem to fit) relationship and then we move to the states and he finds some tall, blonde girl and realizes that what he felt for me was just a phase? Will I have been so invested in this that he leaves me heartbroken? God, I sound so… Pathetic. There's no way I'm gay! And there's no way that _when_- because I'm sure that for him this is just a phase -he leaves me that I'm going to act like a heartbroken maiden. No. I'm a guy! And I realize that what we've started is just for the physical pleasure and release. I realize that, so then why does my chest hurt anyways by this knowledge?

After a long trek through the French countryside we finally arrived at our mutual friend's warehouse. He quickly ushered us all into his large, very dusty warehouse. Before the war our friend used to build automotive parts to most car engines, so dusty pieces of car engines and tools lay strewn about everywhere. It wasn't the most ideal place to stay for an indefinite amount of time, but, hey, you can't be too picky when trying to find a place to hide.

A ways down from the warehouse was our friend's car garage where he used to park cars that he was making repairs on, but now was just another empty working space. "I suppose we should get comfortable. We're going to be here for awhile," stated Lieutenant Hicox, placing his bag down on the dusty warehouse's floor, followed by Wicki and Stiglitz.

"I want to scout around," stated Stiglitz.

"Good idea," replied Hicox. "Stiglitz and Wicki scout the grounds, while Ulmer and I see what we can't do about fortifying this warehouse. Just in case." I nodded sternly as I placed my own bag down and watched Stiglitz and Wicki leave the warehouse. Once Stiglitz and Wicki were out of sight, Lieutenant Hicox looked around the warehouse before speaking again. "Looks like there's not much we can do to this place."

I had to agree with him. The place was a tactical nightmare- perhaps even worse than Lieutenant Raine's accursed basement bar. No windows and only two ways out. The side door and the large, rising door in the front of the building which allowed vehicles to enter the warehouse.

"So, what do we do then?" I asked.

"What I said we would do. Fortify the place as best we can. Is there anyway we can use to seal that rising door shut and perhaps make ourselves an escape route, if necessary?"

"Yeah, maybe, if we take those tables apart and use the wood to nail the door shut," I said, pointing to the four long, wooden, work tables that lined all the walls. "But as for an escape route, I don't know if we could pull that off. At least, not here."

"I fear that you're probably right."

The rest of the evening was spent taking tables apart and nailing things together. Wicki and Stiglitz had mapped out the perimeter of the warehouse and planned an emergency escape route, just in case things took a turn for the worst. But I found myself only halfheartedly interested in doing my job as I pulled wooden legs off of tables and handed them to Stiglitz, too preoccupied in my own thoughts. And watching Wicki.

I felt like a big perv, but I couldn't help it. He was just too damn sexy; especially when he had his jacket off and I could see every flex of muscle underneath the thin shirt he wore. I watched as he lifted a long piece of wood over his head, holding onto one end as Hicox held up the other and Stiglitz nailed the board into place. Watching the muscles in his back tense and hold, I realized how strong he was and shivered as a not so pure thought crossed my mind.

_Okay. I need to stop thinking like that and get back to work,_ I told myself as I went back to pulling wood apart only to stop a few minutes later and ogle Wicki's bare forearms. Wicki caught my stare and I felt silly and embarrassed as I quickly looked away. I could practically feel him smirking at me.

Once we were done with sealing the door, Hicox gave us each shifts in which each of us would have to walk the perimeter and keep watch for anyone who might want to kill us. I got first shift.

Night was closing in and the air got colder as it always did this time of year. I never liked winter. It was always too cold and all that snow was always much more of a hassle than fun. I always managed to get the white powder everywhere, from my boots to my pants. And then it would melt and I'd be left with squishy boots and damp pants.

I walked the grounds that Stiglitz and Wicki had mapped out, taking care to tread softly and carefully so as not to be seen. I walked around the perimeter until I was certain that I could walk this path in my sleep; knowing where every ditch and curve lay.

I still had about half an hour until my shift was up, so I decided to set myself up somewhere and keep watch on the road, confident that if anyone tried to sneak up on us that that was the direction from which they'd come from. I sat myself down under the cover of a tree and some dying brush, thankful that the bushes still had enough foliage on them to conceal me.

The night grew darker and the questions in my mind ran rampant. Questions like, "What if we didn't make it home?" "Where would I go if we did?" "What would become of Wicki and I?"

A groan of heartache and annoyance resounded through my mind. Why did everything have to be so difficult? Especially this. Whatever this was. Heck! This was so difficult that I don't even know what to call this. For surely this was not a relationship. Was it?

I let out a soft sigh, watching as my hot breath met cold air, forming a small, white cloud in front of my face. What was I going to do? But just as I had gotten into deeper thought a sound coming from behind me put me on high alert.

Someone had gotten passed me! How could I have been so careless! I needed to know who was behind me, but I couldn't turn to see, because if I did I would make too much noise and that would alert the other person to my presence- if they hadn't already found me. Another crunch of twigs and dead leaves had me tensing up like a spooked deer.

_Damn! Damn! Damn!_

The sound of each step seemed to bounce off of every bush, tree, and rock and amplify itself in my ear. I could see in my mind's eye the cold barrel of a pistol being drawn out of its holster and smoothly being aimed at my head. My breath hitched and my shoulders started to shiver from being held so tensely, and just as I was going to press my luck and pull my own pistol out and whip around to aim at the intruder, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Damn it, Omar! Where are you hiding? I saw you come up here, but where are you?"

"Wilhelm!" I whispered as I turned around just in time to see the outline of Wicki's head snap up and look in my direction. "Is that you?"

"Yes. Why? Don't tell me you were expecting someone else," whispered Wicki, walking slowly in my direction. "Where are you?"

"Here," I said standing up from my hiding place and walking over to him.

Wicki looked surprised- at least I think he looked surprised. I couldn't see much in the dark -when he saw where I had emerged from. "Well," he started, an amused tone clipping his words, "no one can say that you don't know how to disappear when you want to."

"I'm actually surprised that you were so tactless when trying to find me," I replied as I brushed off some dead leaves from my shoulder. "I mean, seriously. What if I had been an enemy sniper? You'd be dead right now."

"I highly doubted that there were any enemy snipers hiding up here. I had been watching this spot since I last saw you make your rounds this way."

"Dang Man, how long have you been watching me?"

"I suspect as long as you've been watching me," he replied, getting so close to me that even in the dim light of the moon, I could clearly see the sly smirk that was spread wide across his face. My face felt hot and I knew that I must have been blushing. "Don't think that I didn't notice all those open mouth stares you were giving me when we were back at the warehouse." Then Wicki leaned down closer to me, causing me to flinch when his hot breath ghosted over my ear, but his next words had me shivering in pleasure. "And it made me really hot."

Now he was making me really hot. But there was still this annoying, little voice in the back of my mind that was telling me that I should stop this now before I got too deep into this that when it all fell to pieces I'd be left alone and with nowhere to go.

Wicki pulled away from me just enough to look me over, the smirk on his face never vanishing. He lifted his hand up towards my face and cupped my cheek gently, drawing my face closer to his own until finally our lips met in a soft kiss. But I soon felt the kiss intensify and realized where he wanted this to go.

"Wait! Wait!" I whispered, harshly, pulling away from Wicki and stopping him as he tried to follow me. "They'll notice that you're gone."

"Not for a while yet," he whispered back, leaning back down to try and kiss me again. I stopped him with my hand and a questioning look. "I told them that I was going to show you all the best places to keep watch over the whole place and make sure you knew where the escape route was. And I see you've already found an excellent place to watch over the warehouse and I have no doubt that you know exactly where the escape route is. So, that gives us some time to ourselves."

He wrapped an arm tightly around my waist and pulled me flush against him, leaning down again to try and kiss me once more. And again the voice in the back of my mind had me stopping him. "I-I can't," I stuttered as his shocked and confused face looked at me.

"What?"

"I mean really. Look at us. We're acting like two hormone driven teenage boys. Don't get me wrong! I love a good f*ck as much as the next guy. But I can't... We can't. It's... Unprofessional."

Something flashed in his eyes as he released me and took a step back. I felt a sharp pain in my chest when his body was no longer pressed against mine, but I knew that this way was for the best.

"I see," was all he said, but I could see the confusion in his eyes and knew he was still trying to process everything.

"Good," I whispered, forcing a small smile onto my face. "I've got to get back then."

"Right." I walked past him, but was stopped when he reached out and grasped my wrist. "Wait!" I turned to face him and the emotions I saw running rampant across his face almost took my breath away. I had never seen him so open in the entire time I had known him. And he looked conflicted and hurt, which hurt me. He gaped like a fish out of water, looking like he desperately wanted to tell me something, but the words would not force themselves passed his lips. Finally, he let out a sigh and looked down for a second before looking back up at me, looking dejected. He reached up with his free and for a moment I thought that he was going to cup my cheek again and pull me into another kiss, but his hand rose passed my cheek and carefully plucked something off the top of my head. Bringing his hand back down I saw that it was a dead leaf. "You had this in your hair."

"Oh, um, thank you," I whispered as he released me. "Is that all?"

"Yes," he whispered back, eyes downcast.

"Okay. I'll just go then."

I turned and continued on my way, not needing to turn around to know that his eyes where on me the whole time.

**A/N: Okay I did warn ya that it'd be fluffy. Also, sorry this took so long to write. I hit a writer's block. GAHHH! I hate those stupid things. I'm still trying to work through it, so sorry if it takes a while to get the next few chapters out.**

**Hope you enjoyed this one at least. Thanks for reading. : )**

**Grammar mistakes are possible. I did not major in English. Heck, I didn't even pass English class.**

**Next Chapter – Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki's notes part two**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: ****I'm so embarrassed (kinda) about this story. I know my characters are OOC. Originally that was how they were supposed to be, but then after getting half way into writing it, it seemed weird. So, sorry. I will try and finish this story, so thank you for reviewing and following along. And for being gentle with me in the reviews. This is one of my first stories on so when I first published this I was still relatively new and getting settled in to .**

Cpl. Wilhelm Wicki's Notes Part Two

I watched as Omar disappeared somewhere over a hill and briskly ran up it. But once I got up the hill he was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it, Omar! Where are you hiding? I saw you come up here, but where are you?" I hissed out in a whisper.

"Wilhelm?" I heard him ask from somewhere off to my side. I turned my head quickly to where I heard his voice coming from. "Is that you?"

_Duh! Who else would be following you in the dark!?_ I thought sarcastically.

"Yes. Why? Don't tell me you were expecting someone else," I whispered, walking cautiously in his direction. Then thinking that I wouldn't like it very much if he was waiting up here for someone else. "Where are you?"

"Here," he answered as he stood up from a dying bush in front off me. And I was quite impressed that he could conceal himself so completely.

"Well," I started with an amused smirk playing at my lips, "no one can say that you don't know how to disappear when you want to."

"I'm actually surprised that you were so tactless when trying to find me," he stated, walking out of the bush and brushing off some dead leaves from his shoulder. "I mean, seriously. What if I had been an enemy sniper? You'd be dead right now."

I smirked even more and told him why I highly doubted that because I had been watching him for quite awhile now.

"Dang Man, how long have you been watching me?" He asked

"I suspect as long as you've been watching me," I replied, sliding up close to him. "Don't think that I didn't notice all those open mouth stares you were giving me when we were back at the warehouse." I leaned down close to his ear, breathing a breath of warm air over it causing him to flinch and shiver. "And it made me really hot."

I drew him in for a kiss, slowly. Everything about Omar told me that I should move slowly and gently with him. Although, he could be as vicious and as brutal as a wild animal at times, at others he seemed very cautious and tense. I wondered what made him like that. Sure, war did that to a man, but he was even wary around his comrades. That kind of mistrust comes from years of experience, which made me think something in his family life had caused it.

To him I wanted to communicate trust, but I was never a man for words or emotions, so the best I could give him were physical gestures. But as I deepened the kiss, he pulled away.

_Too fast? Too much? Too soon?_

He said what we were doing was unprofessional. That we were acting like two hormone driven teenage boys. Which for all accounts was what I was currently feeling like. But I understood what he was really saying. This was his way of severing things before he got hurt. I figured he had been doing that most of his adult life.

So I let him go. For now.

**A/N: I know, super short chapter. Forgive me. This is not one of my best stories, but I will try and finish it. So long as there is still one person out there who wants to read it, then I will continue writing it. However, it may be slowly. **

**Thank you for reading!**

**Next Chapter - Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz's Notes Part One**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: The notes from the journal everyone's been waiting for, I'm sure. Hugo Stiglitz. I put off writing his for as long as I could because I just can't get a good gauge on him. It was difficult for me to write through his POV, so I hope this chapter isn't too bad. Enjoy!**

**Special thanks to everyone for all the encouragement to continue this story. I was starting to fell unsure whether or not I should. But thank you everyone for reading and reviewing, you all really help me so much with writing this story.**

Sgt. Hugo Stiglitz's Notes Part One

Lioré was a very small town, surrounded by dense forest. The perfect place to hide away at. Our first day here we had spent most of our time fortifying our hide out and mapping out the area, after that we gathered our supplies and all that was left for us to do was wait. I am good at waiting.

Currently, it was the early morning of the second day and I and Corporal Wicki were outside of the garage, both enjoying a cup of fresh coffee. We don't talk much. But then, when I think about it, there's not much to talk about.

"Good morning Gentlemen," greeted Lt. Archie Hicox with his usual British accent and warm smile. "Oh, coffee. May I?"

"Help yourself Lieutenant," stated Wicki as he motioned to the kettle we had hanging over a small fire. "Mugs are in the bag."

"Thanks," replied Hicox as he went about procuring a cup from one of the bags.

"Lieutenant," I started as Hicox found a cup and ambled over to the fire, "where do you suspect Raine and them are right now?"

Hicox made a humming noise in the back of his throat as he used a cloth to pick the hot kettle off the fire and pour some of the steaming liquid into his cup. "Not sure," he answered, honestly. "I guess it all depends on how many stops they made, if they ran into any trouble, and such and such." I nodded, tersely. "But from where we left to Rouen would be a three day hike, that's if they didn't stop except to sleep. So it's safe to assume that they won't get there until the end of the week." I nodded again.

About this time, Omar emerged from the garage, looking worse for the wear. In fact, ever since we left the Grégoires' house he had been looking worse and worse. Something heavy must weigh on his mind to make him physically look ill. I said nothing, though. It wasn't my place, but I noticed how closely Wicki was watching him. He seemed to be worried about the younger man too. Even more than me I suspect.

The day went by, uneventful, which was a good thing in our line of business. And I soon found myself alone watching the surrounding area from my perch up in a tree. The seasons were changing and the leaves were dying and falling. By the end of the week this tree would no longer have any leaves to conceal me anymore.

From my side I could hear the rhythmic crunch of boots against dead leaves and branches as someone was drawing closer. And I had a good idea who it was. I looked down and, sure enough, there stood Lieutenant Archie Hicox, a canteen of water in his hands. He was searching for me and he would have walked right under me if I hadn't called out to him. And, dare I say it, he looked cute when he paused in his step and looked around, confused, for me.

I suppressed a chuckle but smirked as I hopped down from the branch and landed behind him. He jumped, startled, as he turned around to face me.

"Stiglitz," he said, seeming to catch his lost breath. "You scared me. I wasn't sure where you had gotten off to." I walked up closer to him as I dusted off the dead leaves from my jacket. "Here." He handed me the water canteen. "Thought you might be thirsty. You've been gone for hours."

"Thanks," I said as I took the canteen from his hands and twisted off the cap and took a long swallow from it. When I had my fill I twisted the cap back on and wiped my mouth with my sleeve. "Was bored just sitting around the garage. Thought if I was going to be bored, might as well be bored and keep a look out."

Hicox chuckled and gave me a wide grin. "Makes sense if you look at it that way, I guess."

I liked his voice. Or maybe I just liked his accent. But I had met some Brits before and never did they make me feel the way he does. So, maybe, it's just him that I like in general. I decided not to puzzle over the subject too long. It would just give me a headache and no more answers than I had started with.

"Yes, I thought so."

"Well, you missed lunch. Wicki killed three rabbits and we cooked up a can of beans to go along with them. We left some for you. So why don't you go back and eat and I'll keep watch for awhile?"

There was that smile again. And I like his smile too. "Okay, Lieutenant," I replied as I nodded to him and started off to the garage, leaving him to stare out over the land and keep watch.

Inside the garage I found Wicki and Omar cleaning up. "So you are still alive," stated Wicki as he folded up a wrinkled map he had been looking at. I merely grunted in response. I spotted the pan of beans left for me with what looked to be a sorry excuse of a rabbit's carcass next to it on a tin plate. As the weather got colder, food would become even sparser. Someone would have to go into the nearest town to barter for food.

I sat down on one of the three wooden chairs and took the plate with the rabbit meat and took a bite. I was starving. I hadn't had anything to eat all day, just two cups of coffee that morning. The rabbit meat was dry, flavorless, and was like sticking a handful of cotton into my mouth. But I ate it down like it was the last supper.

"We were worried some straggling Nazi soldiers had caught you and killed you," continued Wicki, still placing maps and papers into a rucksack. "I told Hicox that you could handle yourself, but he was still very worried."

I stopped my chewing to finally look up at Wicki. Did he just say that Archie was _very_ worried about me? "You don't say," I said around my mouthful of cotton meat.

"Yeah," Agreed Omar who was off to the side checking his pistol. "You really shouldn't have just went off without telling anyone where you went."

"But I did say where I was going." I objected.

"Outside doesn't exactly specify where you are exactly," stated Omar, giving me a look that clearly said, 'you know what I meant.' I just shrugged and went back to eating. "You really had Hicox up in knots you know. He wouldn't stop pacing until he could go look for you." I listened intently, but on the outside appeared nonchalant and distant. But really I was quite happy to hear that the lieutenant was so worried about me.

Maybe the lieutenant felt more for me than he said. Who knows, but I would later have to test him and see. I smirked to myself, hiding it behind a mug of water.

**A/N: Probably have tons of grammar mistakes. Sorry. I'm so bad at grammar that it makes God cry.**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**

**Next Chapter - Pfc. Smithson Utivich's Notes Part Two**


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